


Beautiful Pain

by scottandstiless



Series: Til' Death Do us Part [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, After the accident, Alpha - Freeform, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Stiles, Baby Boy, Beacon Hills, Call Alan deation, Casual Sex, Colds, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek can't turn, Derek has never been sick, Doctors & Physicians, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flu, Hand Tremors, Human Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Making Out, Mental Health Issues, New Lives, No Smut, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Physical Therapy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Santa Monica, Separation Anxiety, Sick Derek, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Works Too Hard, Stiles is okay now, Viruses, Wolfing Out, Wolfsbane, herbal remedy, immune system, injured derek, married sterek, only make out scenes, red eyes, relationships, respiratory issues, sterek, wolfing out issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottandstiless/pseuds/scottandstiless
Summary: This is the sequel to The Vow:Or the fic where the more and more intimate Derek gets with his husband, the sicker and sicker he becomes. Because now with Malia and Scott married, and Derek married to a human, where is the need for an alpha werewolf? And an alpha without a pack is a lone wolf, and Lone wolves never survive:"Derek?" His voice carefully whispered, knowing his werewolf ears might have been extra sensitive with all the pressure from retching out his insides. Stiles' hand shied away from his significant other's brawny one, watching the IV trail into his vein.The man couldn't muster the strength to speak, only slightly glancing his ice-blue eyes towards Stiles.And for the first time in forever, Stiles can see the marks, he can see the physical damage protruding the wolf's skin. It hurt to see Derek in that condition more than the wolfsbane stung his own system."It's me. Isn't?" Harsh whispers and trembles threatened his voice, slight tears welling in his eyes. "I'm making you sick."





	1. Feelings in the Chest

**Author's Note:**

> hello! If you've stayed with this far, then I love you. So incredibly sorry this fic has taken forever to put up, but after long nights of thinking how I wanted to be, its finally here. So sit back - and indulge in the natural phenomenon the is Sterek. (BTW- there are no straight-out sex scenes written, just implied. Sorry- its not that I don't like it, i just can't pull off writing it. But there are explicit make out scenes ;) ) ** Sequel to "The Vow**
> 
> -  
> -  
> -  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, plot, ideas, or any content of the show Teen Wolf and grant all of it copyrights towards Jeff Davis, nor am I affiliated with either party. This is solely for personal use/enjoyment.

It’s been one year since Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale’s love was tested. This month struck the anniversary of the day Stiles could have lost his life, and Derek could have lost his all. There’s nothing scarier then coming face to face with death, but as a very sweet boy once said, death doesn’t happen to just you. It happens everyone else around you. The accident had left the young man out of work up until now. Tremors threatened his handwriting, random black outs left him dazed in the middle of day and weak. To this day, anxiety still strikes Stiles every now and then, but it’s become incredibly tolerable with the help of Derek. 

Derek never saw his life come to this. He never knew he would fall in love with a certain mole-specked teenager. He never thought he would drop everything for this _child _.__

__“Good morning.” Derek snuck up on Stiles who was in the kitchen. The werewolf hugged the human from behind as he whispered in his ear._ _

__“Jesus-“ Stiles groaned, one hand up under his shirt as his sweatpants threatened to reveal his boxers. Derek smiled as he saw his husband scrambling some eggs at the crack of dawn. Stiles was pecked with multiple kisses across the cheeks, before they started traveling down his neck._ _

__“Derek.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“You’re gonna get us burned.” Stiles bit his lip as he said sternly._ _

__“What?”_ _

__Stiles squirmed out of the embrace to turn off the stove that they were dangerously grinding next to. “Later,” the young man smirked. Derek chuckled as he poured out a cup of coffee for himself and a cup of orange juice for his hubby. A ding alerted them of freshly toasted bread slices before they were brought to the table along with the eggs and some bacon. The two sat outside on the balcony for a lovely breakfast. “I swear I say this everytime I sit here but, the view is so gorgeous.” Stiles looked off from where he sat, staring at the vista. They now lived in a modern, two floor home off the shore of Malibu beach. Their kitchen was adorned with a sharp white and blue/gold accented theme, and of course only the finest planted herbs for Derek. The living room and Dining room were finally furnished, and it wasn’t long until the three bedrooms were finally done. Suffice to say, Derek looks damn fine when he’s lifting heavy shit. His husband gave him a fine grin, staring at the man that was his. Everything felt so good now. Stiles is healthy, Derek’s happy, Scott and Malia are married. Everything’s so good._ _

___God, how’d I get so lucky with this one?_ _ _

__After all that they had went through in the last year, everything has felt so right. Finally, Derek wasn’t afraid to hug Stiles tight with the fear that he might break. Finally, Derek could take Stiles ice skating at the rink without the fear of his leg giving out. He was happy, healthy, and damn he was even out there getting a job. Derek’s mind stopped being happy when he felt a sudden drop in his chest. He shook it off as it went away within a few seconds._ _

__“...anyways so yeah and you’re not listening.” Stiles bit out of his toast, pursing his lips at Derek._ _

__The wolf furrowed his brows upwards, “I’m sorry love, what did you say?”_ _

__“I said, I got a call. At UCLA. I think I’m gonna go in for the interview.”_ _

__Something about that sentence scared Derek. Last time he packed his bag, Stiles ended up half dead._ _

__“What?” Derek asked when he received a glare from Stiles._ _

__“Nothing- just, you have this look on your face.”_ _

__Derek sipped his cup of coffee, “Stiles.. it’s just- I worry.”_ _

“Wait a second- stop right there wolfman.” Stiles scoffed, getting up to put his dishes away, “let me have this one Derek. Come on. I get a brand new start- my dream job. And It would allow for connections with my dream school. see? No tremor? Wanna know why? Because I take my meds, don’t drink coffee, and am a very responsible adult.” Stiles was going on another tangent, talking about the job he was offered under UCLA. Derek could literally hear the movie going on in Stiles’ head, it went a little like _come on Derek! I left the pack for the FBI program! And being accepted as a criminal profiler for them? That’s insane! You know how long I’ve wanted this? Seven years old Derek! I was seven running around saying I wanted to be the X-Files! Was that even a show why I was seven? Wait no that can’t be. Maybe it was Magnum P.I. Wait what were we talking about again?_ Derek could just stare as Stiles blabbed, the words going in one ear out the either. Not that he was trying to drown him out, but if he didn’t, then he’d feel compelled to actually support Stiles. Again, it’s not that he didn’t want to support Stiles- but the last time he told him to go after his dreams, he almost fucking lost him. 

__“Wait- Stiles,” Derek got up by the time Stiles had made his way back in the house and towards the kitchen. “Stiles- come on, you know I support you 100%.”_ _

__“You’re a dirty liar,” the doe-eyed human whispered at the wolf when suddenly Derek had wrapped his hands around Stiles again. Stiles stopped talking as he gazed into his irises. You know those poems about blue eyes being the color of the ocean, the earth and basically everything else pure? Well Derek was smoldering at the amber that was Stiles’ honey brown eyes, thinking of the all the rose-gold and bronze luxuries in the world, the earth’s foundation, and the color of Jupiter. _Brown eyes are the fucking essence of our existence, and they are beautiful._ _ _

__“When’s the interview?” Derek whispered into his ear, his nose brushing past Stiles’ who was trying so hard to not make eye contact anymore._ _

__“Next Saturday morning.” An entire week, okay that’s reasonable. Stiles blushed when Derek kissed his forehead, allowing the werewolf’s hands to move onto his shirt._ _

__“Okay..” Derek talked in a relaxed tone, “then we’ve got- seven days.. to..” his voice grew hush as he started to pull on Stiles’ grey tee shirt, slipping his brawny hands underneath them and onto the human’s torso. Derek kissed his neck as Stiles drew it out when his back hit the wall._ _

__“to what?” Stiles managed to get out._ _

__“Make sure you’re ready for it.” Derek chuckled softly as he planted more kisses._ _

__“Okay but now you’ve got me thinking about the whole- grrrr, Stiles the human can’t leave the house thing,” Stiles looked up in a nonchalant manner, completely ruining the mood. Derek pulled away._ _

__“Stiles. I love you. I support you. I just got scared is all, I like having you in one piece. So now shut up so I can kiss you.” Derek pecked him on the lips as Stiles refused to pull away, loving the feeling of him. He loved the way the world stops no matter where, when, or how many times kisses him. Ever. However, when Derek pulled away first, Stiles begged greedily for him to come back. The wolf was breathing heavily, pants getting louder and louder be a groan came out of Derek, who suddenly clutched his chest._ _

__“Woah- Derek? Derek you okay?” Stiles braced him as much as he could when Derek’s knees buckled underneath him and knelt on the floor. “Derek baby,” Stiles frowned in a complete frenzy, “talk to me.”_ _

__Derek was succumbed in a mental block, his heart rapidly beating against his chest when he felt like he _couldn’t breathe._ _ _

__“I can’t- can’t-“ he took a step back, his hand meeting the wall so he can balance himself._ _

__Immediately, Stiles knew what was happening._ _

__“Derek- relax.” Stiles wrapped his fingers in Derek’s free hand as he spoke to him, “Def’ baby, it’s okay, it’s okay- I’m here- just relax.” Stiles’ voice was as reassuring and soothing as possibly can be, because he knew that’s all he wanted when he had panic attacks. Someone to hold his hand. The black-haired man’s breathe hitched, getting worse and worse by the second as the palpitations threatened everything he stood for. “Hey- Hey, Derek- hold your breath okay? Hold it in for seven seconds, and let it out for nine,” Stiles guides as he rubbed circles on his husband’s back. He complied, and within a few minutes Derek had calmed down as he slumped against the wall to catch his breath. There was complete silence until Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand._ _

__“Are you okay? Are you dizzy or anything?” Stiles asked in concern. He knew how he would feel shitty after one, the feeling of getting hit in the head with a baseball over and over would linger in his rib cage. Whoever it was- Derek, his father, Scott- they would reassure him that it was okay, that he was stilll breathing but he needed to relax. The human brain had a tendency to say otherwise. Derek shook his head, taking long, deep breaths with a flushed face and frightened eyes._ _

__“What the hell was that?” Derek whispered with a stunned yet confused expression._ _

__“I think you had a panic attack..”_ _

__“But.. _why_?”_ _

__“I can’t tell you that.” Stiles looked to him with a sorry gaze, “Hey if something’s bothering you.. then maybe we should.. you know.. talk about it.”_ _

__Derek shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face._ _

__“You know,” Stiles sat directly in front of him now, “I don’t have to be a werewolf to smell the anxiety off you.” It’s true. He didn’t. The constant tiptoeing, and the double-checking of the stove gave it all away. “Derek. Look at me.” Derek looked up, “you don’t have to be so macho all the freaking time. A little humanlike quality won’t kill you. It’s normal to be nervous.”_ _

__“What makes you think I’m nervous?”_ _

__“Well for starters, the whole grrrr, Stiles the human can’t leave the house thing, again,” Stiles smiled as he watched Derek break into a chuckle. “And also, I don’t have to be part of an FBI program to notice the adoption papers all over the dining room table.”_ _

__Derek’s eyebrows furrowed again, “Jesus Christ I forgot to call her again.”_ _

__Stiles stared at him with a blank face._ _

__“Jenna? The social worker? Stiles- adoption is a very long, rigorous progress I don’t want to get blindsided going into it.” Derek claimed with a very serious look. She wanted to schedule a meeting with both of them._ _

__“Oh yeah, you better watch out that Chuckie kid. He’s a scary one Derek. Seriously- he’ll devour you whole and regurgitate it to feed the other kids.” Stiles joked around, helping Derek up as he walked away. “Oh no big guy- you are sitting right here, and I am going to make you some tea to calm those Wolfie senses.” Stiles went on to the kitchen, talking to himself at this point, “spidey senses. You’re like Peter Parker. The senses- they just go haywire at the scent that is Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles put the water in the kettle as he thought about what just happened. He’s never seen Derek even remotely like that._ _

__“You’re full of yourself.” Suddenly, Derek had already made his way to the Dining room to continue his work on the papers. Derek rubbed his face, frowning at the feeling that still lurked in his chest. It was something deep, as if it were feeling a void in his heart. He went through the papers, analyzing the picture of the little boy they were trying to adopt. He was a three-and-a-half year old named August and he loves dinosaurs and spider man, hell he even somewhat resembled Stiles a little. They would call him Gus, or Auggie, which ever he would prefer. They would spoil him, buy him all the toys and take him out to the park every other day. Derek always wondered how they would always love him unconditionally, watching him grow up until graduation day when he would finally leave them. Derek’s dad was never there for him. Especially since the fire. Derek was alone in high school, with Peter as the only figure in his life, considering Cora was off MIA. He just wants to make sure this kid, always feels loved even when they are mad at him. It started to make him think about Stiles, about everything he went through in high school as well; the kanima, the nogitsune especially, berserkers- you name it. He was literally fucking forgotten about for an entire year. Something about that makes Derek guilty, thinking it was somehow his fault. His fault that Stiles felt compelled to come out that night into the woods, because he was so upset about Laura being killed. Pulling out his phone, he pulled up some texts from Scott. He had sent him some pictures from the wedding, and the only thing that drew Derek’s eye was Stiles._ _

__“Derek. Derek!” Stiles was obnoxiously yelling at the werewolf._ _

__“Sorry-“ he watched Stiles put a beer down next to him on the table._ _

__“You seem.. distant, I don’t know. I think you’re just stressed out from all this.” Stiles offered, closing the folder that Derek had been so on top of for the last half hour. The wolf smiled._ _

__“Stiles you barely even drink..” it’s true, Stiles hasn’t been able to stomach alcohol ever since the accident. Something about his insides burning. He still sometimes gets dizzy spells, and he’s still got scars on his hips that make him self conscious._ _

__“Oh no that’s for you- tea won’t relax you like a beer will.”_ _

__Derek chuckled, accepting the offer even though it might have been too early in the day for it. Although, he did wish he could actually feel the effects of alcohol, since werewolf’s are incapable of getting drunk. Sometimes, he wished he could just drink enough to forget. “Drunk” wasn’t a concept for him. He showed Stiles the pictures Scott sent him._ _

__“Hey these look pretty nice-“ Stiles genuinely smiled, “damn you look really good in this one.” He showed the alpha a picture of Derek and Him standing next to each other. Derek was grinning at the camera, but Stiles couldn’t stop staring at Derek._ _

__Derek smiled.  
The feeling came back into his chest again, but he tried so hard not to let out any grunt of pain._ _


	2. Driver's Ed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek starts to feel more serious symptoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anotha one. thanks for the sweet comments everyone ;)

“Damn these just keep on coming,” Stiles held the envelopes in his hand. The Medical Bills were laughing at him. Thousands of dollars were thrown down the drain because of some stupid ass drunk driver. 

“Stiles- just put those down, I’ll deal with them later.” Derek mumbled, still going through his papers. 

“$1700 for one MRI scan, why are we _just_ getting this?” Stiles gritted his teeth, reading over the payment dues from the hospital.

“Well we just payed for the others, so I guess they’re doing them separately. I’ll write out a check when I’m done.”

Shit. “What?” Stiles perked up. “No- no you won’t. Derek you’ve already covered literally 300k in _my_ medical bills. Don’t touch it, I’ve got this one.” Derek didn’t answer back, knowing that fighting with him is exactly how to add gas to the fire. He’ll just swipe the bill when Stiles isn’t looking. The young man went through the rest of the mail, plucking out a postcard from Lydia. “Lydia said hi,” he chuckled.

Derek wasn’t trying to ignore Stiles, but rather was trying to get actual work done. He stared at the documents that requested for his taxes and house records before thinking of something, “Stiles. If something happened to you and I, who are we leaving Augustus to?”

“Peter.”

Derek glared at Stiles. Stiles’ eyes widened, “relax- I was kidding. He’d eat him. Probably my dad if you want.” Stiles frowned at the thought of having to leave the kiddo alone all by himself, having to grow up without parents. Stiles and Derek both knew how that felt. He watched Derek wipe a hand down his face, he’s been doing this for at least an hour, and it’s not that he doesn’t want Stiles’ help; it’s just the guy can’t sit for more than two seconds. And he loved that about him, he swears. 

“Derek I know it’s just like rewriting our house statements and copying stuff, but let me help, seriously. You look really tired. You’ve been doing this all day” Stiles offered a helping hand, sitting down at the table across from him. 

“Stiles it’s fine baby, besides I don’t want to put force on your hand. You’ve been very helpful anyways with all the taxes.” Derek showed off his bunny teeth grin, reminding Stiles that even though his physical therapy was done, he’s lucky to even have motion and still needs to be careful. Just because he’s not as jittery anymore because he takes his meds doesn’t mean the tremors won’t show up every now and then. The doctors promised 50% function, but now thankfully he’s got it all, which is amazing, however the extent of his injuries make him more susceptible to overworking everything. Despite recovering, he still gets horrible "phantom pains," as he calls them, referring to them as that because it reminded him of a pain that he could have been imagining, but thankfully can feel it. They said his immune system had been compromised, so it's always a trip to the emergency room when Stiles gets sick, but nothing else affects Derek the way his husband's head trauma had. Watching the man you've loved for the last five years forget who you are was the scariest thing Derek's ever been through- scarier than any nogitsune or anuk-ite. He was warned not to allow Stiles to drive for a while, and to even avoid the subject of the crash. Derek's noticed a couple of little changes in Stiles ever since the accident; he's become more attached, always with Derek going wherever the hell he was. He's become obsessive to certain things, even dedicating five feet of red string to a crime board for some local ones and his accident. And he can't work under as much pressure as he used to be able to. Like when he’s stressed he has migraines, or suddenly develops into a depression of literally doing nothing. In high school, Stiles was one of those kids who would be a cool as an ice cube during finals weeks, and would just start laughing at three in the morning instead of contemplating drinking bleach to avoid school (suicide was not joke to him). But now? One minute he’ll be working on his crime board, come to a dead end, and in a second Derek would find him on the floor, head between his hands. Stiles didn’t want to be upset or nervous or randomly break down all the time, but having an anxiety disorder isn’t exactly the easiest thing. Derek learned that anxiety attacks are different then panic attacks, and that sometimes he might not even notice if Stiles was having one. It was then when Derek realized, the scariest demons are always the ones best at hiding. It was then when Derek realized if Stiles suddenly started pacing back and forth, or becomes silent, or is being very aggressive (especially when there’s a lot of different white noise in the background), then he was having an anxiety attack. It never had to be any physical signs or _I’m losing my mind_ moments. The doctors claimed it was post-traumatic stress disorder, but it was starting to concern Derek that it would develop into a panic disorder. He didn’t notice it until he sat in the car with Stiles who was about to drive for the first time. His husband didn’t break down into tears, but Derek could see the fear in his eyes when Stiles turned the car on, and suddenly turned his voice off. They then agreed that Derek would drive until he felt comfortable- which brings another point up as he filled out a questionnaire:

_Is there any specific mode of transportation available for the child?; if so, by what means and by who would be responsible, licensed driver available in the household?_

“Stiles.” Derek said softly, looking at Stiles who was half a ton of paper deep as he was looking for his personal records for his and Derek’s I.D. “Why don’t we go on a drive?” 

Stiles perked up, nodding his head in agreement, “I’m down.” 

Derek rephrased his question, “and by that I meant you driving.”

Stiles froze, putting down the stack of papers onto the table. “Um- I.. I don’t know about that Der’...”

“Come on, you’ll be fine- I promise you. I just want you to take it out the driveway you know? That’s it. And I can take it from there. We’ll go out for lunch.” Derek got up from his place. 

“Wait but I was in the zone here- I can’t just-“ Stiles babbled, making an excuse to not drive. Him and driving was like a kid and a dentist. Horrifying and never-meeting mixture. 

“Aaaand you can still be in the zone- just in the driveway!” Derek grinned frantically, “Stiles,” the alpha grabbed the human’s hand, “you gotta start somewhere. Don’t you want to drive yourself to work? I mean I don’t mind but- I don’t want you to have to ever wonder where the hell I am and why I’m late.” 

The next second, Stiles found himself with his fingers wrapped around the barrel of the steering wheel. His heart was pounding. One wrong move, and it could happen all again. One wrong move, and he _and_ Derek could be killed. It horrified him that this metal box carries his life or can produce his life. He squeezed on the wheel of the Jeep, analyzing it. It felt dirty, it felt wrong. Of course, since his was absolutely, positively destroyed, Stiles cried and cried about it when he heard the news of it being impounded. Seriously. It was his mother’s, and he loved nothing (besides Derek and his father) more than that jeep. So Derek, being the loveable, scariest ball of fluff ever, drove _14 fucking hours_ with Scott to buy the same exact jeep for Stiles, and drove it _14 fucking hours_ back. “Derek.. I don’t want to do this.”

“I’m right here baby, it’s gonna be okay. If you freak out- I’ll pull the emergency brake okay?” Derek hated forcing Stiles into things, but he knows that if he never gets him into it now, Stiles will forever be afraid to drive. So Derek watched as Stiles took a deep breath when he went blanche, his hand on the stick. He felt Derek’s brawny hands over his long fingers as he gave Stiles a warm smile. Stiles put the shift into gear, and before he knew it, the car was going reverse out of the driveway. 

“It’s moving- it’smovingit’smovingit’smoving- How the fuck do I make it stop!” Stiles was yelling as he slowly backed up, frantically looking to the mirror every two seconds.

“Stiles you’re moving slower than Scott before the bite!” Derek chuckled, grinning from ear to ear.

Stiles barked, cackling, “ _Hey I’m slower than Scott before the bite!_ ”

“Okay, okay!” Derek begged for him to stop before a strike in his chest stopped him mid-laugh.

“Der’?” Stiles darted to see him grabbing at his t-shirt and wincing.

Groaning, Derek managed to get out,“Stiles- the road!” 

Stiles dramatically swerved despite the mailbox being very far away from his path of destruction, “jesus-!” he exclaimed before finally stopping the damned vehicle. “Derek are you okay?” The werewolf watched the human’s eyebrows furrow into a concern, smelling the distraught off him. Derek smiled it off when the pain suddenly disappeared. 

“Yeah- I’m good.” Derek calmly responded back after a few seconds of silence. Whatever had caused that had frigthened Derek, but he couldn’t worry Stiles, “I think I just laughed a little too hard.”

Stiles smiled, but a hint of worry still plagued his expression, “must be tough for a sour-wolf like you to smile a little,” he joked around. Derek growled before telling Stiles to trade places so he can drive. 

“Also- you did amazing Stiles.. Seriously, I’m really proud.” 

Stiles grinned in an all-knowing manner, “you know besides almost decapitating our mailbox but no biggie.” Derek watched as Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over and kissed him, and asked him, “are you sure you’re okay?” to which Derek nodded a very confident yes. 

However, the truth is exposed as soon as they switch seats. Whatever concoction was brewing inside of Derek- it was bad. He was good for the first few seconds, starting the car up, and successfully pulling out of the driveway. Trying to get the subject changed off of him, Derek asked Stiles where he wanted to go for dinner, who replied that Derek should choose because he knows the place and venues alot better than he did. Stiles landing in Santa Monica was like the probability of finding a needle in a haystack. He always imagined going somewhere far, far away from the likes and supernatural baddies of Beacon Hill. But Derek did say that those once in the town would always get pulled back in, no matter how far the go. Beacon my ass. The drive was going along smoothly as Derek started to explain to Stiles about what he’s done so far on the questionnaire and record documentations for the adoption agency. He explained how he was going to need to schedule an interview with the social worker, _together_ , before getting into any real applications. But the more and more Derek drove, the less and less he could hear of Stiles’ voice. It started to warble everytime the small Santa Monica common streets got busier and busier. Soon, everything felt surreal. Pins and needles attacked the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet as Derek started to see blurs, and not just because he was driving. 

“Derek?” He heard Stiles say. “Derek-” Again. 

Soon, everything turned into blobs of fast moving color and hues, before mixing into a darkness of black. 

“Derek! Derek get up, come on, get up!” Stiles yelled as he watched Derek’s head hit the steering wheel, releasing multiple unwarranted honks from the blue jeep. “No, no- no, no, no, no-” This is not happening. This is not happening. The car swerved with the impact on the somewhat-steady flow of traffic, as Stiles grabbed it with one hand. “Derek wake up!” Stiles tried to relax, but just couldn’t think and drive at the same time. _Okay, Stiles, relax. Relax. You can do this. You’ve seen this in movies, and in the news. Just breathe. Put the car in neutral, pull the emergency break, and pull over. Relax._ Stiles thought of it just as if he were trying to break down a case, but some red string would have really helped a boy out. He managed to compose himself just enough for him to shift into neutral quickly, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel. “Derek-” Stiles said a lot calmer now, feel the car lull in acceleration before using his free hand to pull on the emergency brake, which failed to really do anything. With eyes darting everywhere and cars honking behind him, the young man turned on the hazard warning light with trembling fingers, signaling for everyone to relax the fuck out and stop with the noise that made him want to burst into tears. Stiles didn’t recognize where the hell he was, but it was getting dark, and his heart was beating out of his chest from pure terror; soon, the drivers around him had allowed for a spacing in the lane as he started to steer to the right. Stiles prayed to God, calling for Derek, who suddenly started to stir when Stiles had finally pulled over to the side of the road, waiting for the car to stop. And when it did- Stiles immediately turned the ignition off and swiped the keys before letting out a loud panting and plead of thanks. 

_”Holy shit._ ” Stiles was out of breath as he exclaimed, feeling his chest rising up and down at the same time his heart beated for concern. “Derek?” Stiles relaxed himself enough to quietly call out to him again, “Derek baby, it’s Stiles.” He watched as the werewolf opened his eyes, so Stiles laid him back comfortably so his head wasn’t against the wheel anymore. The entire world was a freaking haze, and the only thing that seemed to come into focus was Stiles’ mouth moving in front of his face. Derek groaned as he started to come to, trying to sit up but Stiles pushed him back down. “Derek- Derek relax, you’re okay, relax.” Stiles knew he needed to comfort him as he was incredibly confused as to what the hell had just occurred. The human pushed back the hairs that stuck to Derek’s forehead as he mumbled unrecognizable dialogue. It took a few minutes for him to finally come around before Stiles had to explain how the werewolf had passed out while he was driving. 

“I did?” Derek winced in confusion. 

“Yeah. You did. But it’s okay because I’m gonna take you home okay der’?” Stiles spoke to him as he got out of passenger and opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Okay you gotta help me out here okay big guy? I’m not sure I can take you on all on my own,” Stiles pleaded as he wrapped his arms around Derek (who did a great job of carrying at least half his own muscular weight) and helped him into the seat. Stiles was nervous because pulling onto the side of a road, dragging Derek out, and not calling 9-1-1 looks oddly suspicious. Fastening his seatbelt and rolling up his jacket that he took off so Derek could use to rest his head on, Stiles made sure Derek was still awake and lucid. 

Stiles got in, fastened his seatbelt and took a deep breath, praying that he won't veer off the road and would actually remember how to drive. So many things concerned him at the moment, he's definitely thinking about too much; the house, the bills, the adoption, Derek- just gotta drive slowly, get Derek home, and into bed. And he doesn't mean _in_ bed, although he would've really liked that. 

What really scared the shit out of him was when he took his hand to derek’s forehead, which was burning. Since when do werewolves get sick?


	3. Whats Going on With Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Derek starts to worsen in condition, tension arises between him and Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit so sorry for such a late update. This is a part time thing unfortunately, whereas school and life are full time.

That night, Derek was in and out of it, completely disregarding the whole I’m-dragging-your-sorry-ass-into-bed-wolfman thing. Stiles wrapped his arm around the werewolf after successfully managing to park the car in the driveway of their home. He laid Derek in bed, pulled off his damp, sweaty shirt and took his temperature, which was pretty high, but that’s being held against a _human’s_ standards. When he realized his husband would be out for a while, Stiles found himself trying to relax. Suddenly, everything had hit him- the driving, the whole Derek-getting-sick-even-though-he’s-a-werewolf-thing, his job interview, the bills- everything. Stiles’ hand shook as he eyed the bottle of Adderall he hasn’t taken in months. His anti-anxiety medicine tosses him in this unfathomable fog when he gets really tired, and the doc suggested he could take adderall once a day at night in addition if he feels the need to. 

Stiles feels the need to, but its eight o’clock at night, and does he really need to be doing that right now? He feels a certain tugging, an emotional need to take one. Just one, he says to himself. Just one. But knowing Stiles, one will turn to three, so he puts it back, relying on just the benzodiazepines he took in the morning. To be honest, Stiles is pretty sure he’s going through some adderall withdrawal at this point, but the other one seems to be helping. He isn’t having any serious side effects, minus the fog, and the painful muscle tensing sometimes, but he’d rather go through that then having subsequent panic attacks or nightmares. He remembers having horrendous dreams about the car crash, and sometimes he would wake up at night in a cold sweat, only for Derek to remind him that he’s okay. Like I said, the doctors think it’s PTSD. But let’s face it. Stiles hasn’t been able to recall a moment before getting serious with Derek where he wasn’t suffering. In college, he failed a course due to the fact that he couldn’t even get out of bed to face the final exam. Imagine fucking _acing_ an entire course, only for you to get fucked over by your own head. And it wasn’t like he could just explain that his anxiety made him skip the test to his professor; this was some high-profile FBI shit. They don’t mess around over there. Stiles suffered in high school, he died and came back to life in high school, lost one of his best friends, lost his mother, and still managed to graduate. He flunked courses in college, spent every other night contemplating dropping out because of panic attacks, and still graduated with a freaking Masters’ in criminology. He didn’t make even top 75th percentile, and was still offered his dream job. He went his entire life pining after a certain strawberry blonde, and now he’s married to the sexiest man on Earth. Mind boggling is what that is.

Stiles stops thinking about himself. He knows that although the werewolf is going to deny this as being serious, Stiles is an intelligent kid, and he knows. Therefore, he’s gotta take care of Derek now, the same way as he’s taken care of Stiles, so he bids adieu to the anxiety that comes around and makes a rain date. 

Soon, by the time Derek had opened his eyes, he was tucked in bed underneath a cover with his shirt off and a freezing ice pack wrapped in a washcloth dawned his forehead. Stiles sighed, analyzing Derek’s pale features and his sunken circles around his eyes. He probably hasn’t slept in a while. Stiles didn’t know what was going on, whether something was up or Derek really just had the flu. 

He groaned, a headache pulsed in his head and he was sweating profusely. Suffice to say, Derek hasn’t felt _this_ bad in years. 

“Hey-” Stiles walked in looking for something. He watched as Derek got up from the bed, “Der’- you gotta-”

“What time is it?” The alpha rasped. 

“It’s eight thirty. You’ve been out for an hour.”

Derek groaned, taking a deep breath as he rubbed his face. “What happened?” All he could remember was being happy at Stiles for pulling out of the driveway, and that some reason his head hurt. 

Stiles sat on the edge of the bed, “you passed out while you were driving on the way to dinner.” 

Derek furrowed his brows. Something in his body was brewing and it scared the shit out of him. Stiles got closer to him, “maybe you should just relax. Okay? Listen- I- I got the papers, I’ll schedule the appointment, I’ll finish filling everything out, you just sleep it off.” Derek’s world was spinning around him, but he swore it stopped when Stiles held his hand. His insides stung a bit, but he loved the feeling. “You want anything to eat? I made some soup for you but if you don’t want it-”

“I don’t really have much of an appetite..” Derek whispered, holding his head in between his hands as Stiles rubbed soothing circles on his back. “Maybe a cup of coffee..” 

Stiles smiled, makes sense- if he can’t eat his usual weekly rabbit, then where the hell is he supposed to get that sort of energy. “Alright big guy.” Derek takes it black. Don’t expect anything else less. In a few minutes when he came back, Derek was up and at it. “Derek. Seriously?” 

“What?” Stiles stared at his pale skin, giving him that turtled-out neck look with squinting eyes. “Stiles I’m fine, although- thank you.” He pecked the younger man on the cheek as he took his coffee. 

 

“Derek wait-“ Stiles just stared in awe as he saw Derek pull off his pants and grabbed a towel, “so we just _aren’t_ going to talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about, Stiles?” Derek froze, asking in a very calm voice now. He was about to drench all of his worries in the shower. 

“This-“ Stiles’ lips quivered and his eye twitched, “Derek what the hell!” 

“Stiles-“ Derek gave him a glare, “You need to calm down.” 

_”Don’t tell me to calm down!”_ Stiles yelled back, “Derek- you’re getting sick, okay? Doesn’t that scare even the slightest inkling of shit out of you? You could’ve freaking killed us, and you don’t even care!” His arms were flailing, elaborate gestures made up Stiles in the grand scheme of things. 

Something about that sentence hit Derek in the heart. 

“Okay baby, I hear you. I hear you Loud and clear Stiles.” Derek got closer to Stiles, holding a hand out, “I’m sorry.” The words echoed as he felt Derek’s strong hands wrap around his hips and down, as Derek’s bare chest hit against Stiles. “You don’t have to drive if you don’t want to... I’ll drive you on Saturday. I’ll drive you everywhere if it freaks you out.” Derek’s relaxed timbre shook Stiles to the core. He felt Stiles’ gentle touch around the waistband of his boxers, his finger pads threatening his paling skin. 

“S-stop doing that-“ Stiles whispered when Derek looked back with a look of confusion, “this- get-close-to-me thing, I’m trying to be upset and I can’t do that if you’re like this.” 

Derek grinned as he started to pull on Stiles’ shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Oh so is this my invite?” Stiles snarked. 

“If you want it to be,” Derek felt Stiles’ shoulders tense. It’s been hard for them to even talk about having sex because frankly it scared the fuck out of Stiles. Not that they haven’t done it before, but they haven’t since the accident. Not to mention Stiles officially healed as of a few weeks ago. 

Stiles shook his head and Derek tried to hide his frown. 

That night, while Derek was in the shower, Stiles paced back and forth. There’s gotta be reason for what the hell was happening. Derek fucking Hale doesn’t just pass out out driving. Maybe it’s wolfsbane? He went back to his crime board. It had been full of random cases in LA that he’s trying to mentally follow. Encircled with a vengeance filled circle of yellow push pins was a picture of his Jeep, destroyed and literally in half. The picture made him angry, made him want to quit alcohol so he’d never ever allow himself to do that. And to think that he drove today? He was still trembling, of course it came naturally, it was the heat of the moment that gave him the courage and the adrenaline. He followed to red string which had a couple of pictures of few different men, the picture of the other car, and the license plate. However, he already tried- the car wasn’t even the drivers, who either borrowed it or stole it, considering the registered owner of it was a female. Stiles paced again, an idea sparking in his head. 

No. Don’t do it.   
Stiles.

No.

_He can’t snoop through Derek’s phone._

Okay it’s not like he’s trying to see if Derek’s cheating on him, right? He trusts Derek- he just needs a number. He just needs Peter’s phone number. He thought to himself- Derek’s gonna ask. He’d be better off calling Scott first. After all, he is his best friend, he should know, and he could help anyways. 

 

No. Don’t do it.   
Stiles.

No.

_He can’t snoop through Derek’s phone._

Okay it’s not like he’s trying to see if Derek’s cheating on him, right? He trusts Derek- he just needs a number. He just needs Peter’s phone number. He thought to himself- Derek’s gonna ask. He’d be better off calling Scott first. After all, he is his best friend, he should know, and he could help anyways. 

“Hello-“

“Scott hey man,”

“Stiles dude what’s up? Is there something wrong? You never call in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah- yeah no everything’s fine- uh.. how’s Malia?”

“She’s good. How are you holding up though?” Scott asked sincerely. He hasn’t seen them since his own wedding.

“Good, good... uh listen,” Stiles protruded to the kitchen and began to whisper, “Derek he... lately, he’s been really tired, really stressed and stuff..”

“I would imagine,” Scott was told about their plans to adopt.

“Yeah but he’s not doing well, today he was driving and he passed out, and whenever he tries to get close he says something hurts and earlier I think he had a panic attack- all thought now that I think about it it probably wasn’t a panic attack but more of a my-lungs-hurt kinda thing and-“ Stiles rambled.

“Stiles slow down dude. What are you saying?” 

“I think Derek’s sick.” 

“Sick? As in human sick? As in not shot by wolfsbane sick?”

“Jesus Christ, no as in seasick. Yes sick!” 

Scott could practically smell the frustration fuming off Stiles, “Stiles- I’m not really sure what that means.. he’s an alpha- is that even possible?”

“It’s not supposed to be!” Stiles ran his hands through his hair, lowering his voice when he realized Derek could very well be listening in to the conversation. 

“Doesn’t he have a beastiary? I mean I’ll call Deaton and-“

“No- don’t call him, Derek doesn’t know I called you and if Alan called him asking what’s up, it’s not gonna take long to connect the dots. I’ll look for the beastiary tonight...” Stiles’ voice trailed off on the line.

“Stiles it’s gonna be okay man.” Scott comforted. He heard Stiles sigh in the other end.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Night Scott.” Stiles hung up. 

His pacing attacked him again, causing him to walk back and forth in the kitchen repeatedly until Derek came out who was in the midst of pulling his shirt over his head. And of course- he looked perfect. His perfectly chiseled abs, his glistening white bunny teeth, his pale blue eyes that screamed the ocean. Ugh. 

“Der’ you should get some rest.” He watched Derek run his hands through his wet hair. 

“I’m fine, really don’t even worry,” Derek smiled, “you do that a lot. Worry.”

“No Derek really. Okay- I am worried- and you need to rest. Please.” Stiles was almost asking him to rest. 

“Did someone call? Or were you just talking to yourself earlier?” Derek asked curiously, hearing a muffled conversation while he was showering. 

“Just Scott.” He thought for a second as he made a cup of coffee, “speaking of which- do you have the beastiary still?”

“Who wants it?”

“Me.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. 

“Scott was just interested in something for Deaton.” 

Derek nodded his head, “I’ll get it out for you tomorrow.”

Stiles smiled, pecking him with a kiss and thanking him. But as Stiles’ lips met with Derek’s stubble-covered cheeks, he felt a slight burning sensation. He felt his hands wrapped around his waist, “weren’t we just about to start something before you went to shower?” Derek quickly pulled away, detesting the burning sensation under Stiles’ fingertips. Stiles looked back at him with confusion. 

“O—-okay.. I guess not.”

“I’m sorry- I- I remembered I have to get somethings to the office and- and it’s already incredibly late but I can just leave it in their mailbox-“ Derek improvised as he went.

Stiles’ mouth drew open, watching Derek stutter and stumble to his room to get _dressed_.

“Derek- wait what?” Stiles blabbed, chasing after Derek who’s face was exasperated, forcing his legs through new pants. “Derek it’s fucking nine at night...” 

Derek ignored him, moving to grab his keys and the folder of papers, “I’m just gonna drop them off in her office. It’s still open technically,” Derek avoided his eyes, his brown.. honey nut.. golden sweet, sweet eyes. “She wanted them today.” Derek exhaled a sharp breath out of the corner of his mouth, breezing past the human and slamming the door behind him.

Stiles froze.

“What the hell?” He whispered, talking to himself. 

Derek got into the car by the time Stiles caught up, veering off the driveway. 

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think, couldn’t anything. He just needed to run, to feel the wind in his wet hair. Derek pulled over into a heavily-wooded area, getting out of the car in the dark of the night. His eyes flashed red when he winced as he moved, the pain sourcing from his hips. “Shit..” he whispered, pulling at his pants band to reveal tender blemishes that almost resemble burns, right where Stiles’ fingers were prior. 

Suddenly, his shirt was off, and undernight the moonlight, his mouth welcomed a lengthening of his teeth, and a set of claws. 

So he started running, and running, running until he was too tired to feel any of the pain that coursed through his veins like a poison. 

Stiles called Derek six times that night, his phone viciously ringing inside the camaro. “Come on Derek.” Stiles whispered, rummaging through all of Derek’s stuff until he found a very recognizable book. 

It was heavy, and it was dense. It didn’t help that the beastiary was in Latin either, but he could certainly try. He started looking up words like sick, werewolf, pain, breath shortness in the index, but to no such luck. His crime board now had been occupied with Latin translation clippings, pictures of herbs, and red thread connecting the unknown. It was only forty five minutes before Stiles’ head hit the book in exhaustion. Of course he was worried where Derek had gone, but Derek’s a big boy. He can take care of himself if something happens, and Stiles isn’t sure he can muster up the strength to drive. 

Derek came back an hour later to the see the sight of Stiles. A pen was in his coffee cup. Papers, strewn all over the floor. His check was pressed against the dense book. Stiles was still fully dressed, and Derek contemplated waking up for him to change, but decided that he had enough for the day. The wolf easily lifted the young man out of the study and carefully placed him on the bed in their room. Stiles stirred as Derek pulled off his shoes, and undid his shirt. 

Stiles groaned, muttering something about Derek. As Derek pulled the shirt off his chest, he analyzed the scars that were half faded. They weren’t as bad, as prominent, as they had been, but he knew it still made Stiles self-conscious. They were the reason he wore a shirt to bed. “Der-...” Stiles mumbled.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Derek smiled, watching Stiles groggily awake as he hovered over him. 

“Yer’... so late.” Stiles trailed off, giggling as Derek pulled off his shoes. 

“I’m sorry baby,” Derek whispered, getting closer to him as he nuzzled into his neck, his hands all over Stiles’ chest. Stiles felt the nakedness, only welcoming it for a couple of seconds before it was perturbed by heavy breathing. He turned on his side away from Derek, opening his eyes fully as his arms came over it. “Stiles.”

He stayed silent.

“You’re so gorgeous... I don’t know why you think otherwise.” Derek eyed the moles that speckled his pale skin. He pecked him on the cheek once before tossing onto the bed besides him. “What?” Derek asked when the silence persisted.

“Why are you so late?” 

“I got carried away. Dropped the papers off, stopped by a few stores.”

Stiles sat up, getting up to change into more comfortable pants. Really, he just didn’t want to face Derek. He had gotten so fucking worked up, thinking of all the possible scenarios that could have happened, that could have hurt him. And to know that Derek couldn’t even be bothered to check his phone?   
“I called. So many freaking times.” Stiles said, pulling a shirt over his head before returning back and plopping onto the king sized mattress. Derek froze, he hadn’t even checked his phone. Not once. “I thought you were fucking dead..” 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Derek wanted to impale himself at the moment. 

“You know how long I stayed up? How I almost contemplated calling the cops?” Stiles was getting frantic, and Derek knew that he was on a train that was on the path to derailment. “I had to check whether I had locked the doors 7 different times Derek! I swore off my gun when I got it, but I seriously thought about it tonight. I- _you know how insane it made me feel Derek? You know how --uncontrolled-- it makes me feel?_ He puffed. Stiles rubbed a hand down his face. A tinge of guilt plagued his tongue, but he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t stop the constant worrying and freaking out, and it seemed to only get worse as of late. 

“Stiles, will you just relax? I’m sorry.. I just-”

“Yeah.” Stiles said quietly, turning onto his side with his back to Derek. He clicked his tongue, "What's going on with us?"

A long pause lingered in the air, as Stiles could physical feel Derek frowning, who also happened to be listening into every voluntary sound coming out of his human. Derek stared up at the ceiling, upset at the whole day that had resorted to shit. 

"I don't know.."


	4. Burn Marks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello beautiful people! i decided to stop moping around and not waste my life away by sitting around and doing absolutely nothing so here a new chapter finally is! if you'd like, i really need some new brain teasers to fiddle around with, so if you have a fic request or idea that you'd like to see come to life, just leave a comment :) ! have a great day and stay safe guys! I seriously appreciate all you have done for me. Much love. Nez (i guess I've never introduced myself to any of you but thats a nickname I'm comfortable sharing with) xx

The next night wasn’t exactly any better. 

Stiles was up bright and early, a cup of coffee in his head as he stared at the crime board that day. It was five in the morning, but he got up because he just couldn’t stand awkwardly laying in the bed with Derek considering he’s been up since two. He was a mess of course, but he was an organized one. And the poor guy just needed some space and time to himself to think things through, considering he’s got a history of lashing out when he’s stressed. Currently, his entire board is slathered in red, and as discouraging as it may have been, Stiles is still excited for his interview in a couple of days. But right now? His main drive is to find out what the hell was going on with the love of his life. 

Ok. Fine. It’s true, he’s a _little _concerned about their relationship. I mean- the possibility that Derek could be cheating on him is always there. Stiles always wondered why he stuck with him, he’s so _Stiles_. Or even worse, maybe there was a whole gang of troll fairies that followed Derek here and now he has to fend them off all by himself. __

__It was around noon when Derek felt a tapping on his shoulder._ _

__He groaned, Stiles trying to stifle his laughter at his awkward attempt to take up all the space in the bed. “Der. Der! Derek. Wake up!” Stiles yelled out a little bit louder._ _

__The werewolf jumped, startled._ _

__“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Stiles’ hand was soothing over the muscles of Derek’s back, who wanted every bit of attention he could get. “It’s eleven. You totally crashed last night.”_ _

__Derek _never_ sleeps in later than 9. Ever._ _

__He stretched out his arms, confused at everything. Why wasn’t Stiles still mad about last night? It’s only human for him to hold a grudge, but Derek isn’t seeing anything. Stiles leaned in for a kiss on the lips, holding it a bit more than Derek would’ve guessed as he felt his hands travel down the werewolf’s chest. Suddenly, Stiles was on top of the other man, suffocating him in all forms of affection. And Derek loved every second of it, he loved watching Stiles’ eyes glitter, he loved how he did that thing when he’s kidding, where he drags his bottom lip up. Derek couldn’t stop smiling, rolling both of them over until Stiles is pinned down on the bed. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, feeling a certain fire in him as Stiles’ hands made their way all over the map that was Derek’s body. Every fingertip left a slight tingling sensation on his skin, but Derek was too into it to even notice. He focused on his husband, grinding against him as his own lips caressed Stiles’ neck. Rough, but passionate moans escaped their mouths as Derek stopped, leaving Stiles wanting more. He threw himself besides him on the bed._ _

__“What was that for?” Derek smiled, tossing a glare at the human laying besides him._ _

__“What? I can’t make love to my husband now?” Stiles chuckled getting up to fix something up for Derek, who followed in pursuit. Of course though, Stiles did have a reason for all the physical infatuation. If he was stressed out, he would want Derek all over him too. However as Derek walked by the mirror, he placed emphasis on the tingling sensation on his skin. There was something there, he just _knew it_. He looked down, noticing even more salmon-pink burns that had managed to appear. _ _

__Derek’s jaw dropped. He tried not to make any physical noise of his discomfort as he couldn’t look away. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes his chest had appeared to be normal, sans and cosmetic marks._ _

__Holy shit._ _

__He shook the horrible feeling away, tossing a shirt over his skin before sitting down to eat breakfast. Stiles had left to grab the morning mail, and Derek poured two cups of coffee and went out to the balcony before he found Stiles in front of him._ _

__A certain folder of papers in his hand.  
A certain confusion on his face._ _

__“Derek.”_ _

__“Stiles..” Derek’s eyes darted back and forth between his face, an expression that looked absolutely crushed, and the paper stack. “I can explain.”_ _

__“Where did you go last night?”_ _

__“Stiles I-”_ _

___”Derek,”, Stiles chuckled impishly, tossing a glance out to the verona that he should’ve been enjoying right now, he sighed deeply, “I really, really want you to have a good excuse, but part of me knows some random shit is going on right now, okay? So I just need the truth.” He looked down, “all of, and nothing but, the truth.”_ _ _

___Derek got up, taking a deep breath as he could hear both of their hearts pounding at the speed of light. In silence, Derek pulled his shirt up._ _ _

___“Stop screwing with me Derek! I’m so serious right now!”_ _ _

___Derek furrowed his brows, annoyed with how unconcerned Stiles was until he looked down. “Wait- no, no they- they were there. You can’t see them?”_ _ _

___“See what?”_ _ _

___“The burn marks.”_ _ _

____”What?”_ _ _ _

___Derek bit his lips. The universe is just so against him at the moment. The werewolf flashed his eyes as he watched Stiles’ face contort into worry. He held Stiles’ hand over one of the larger marks on his skin. Stiles recoiled, his eyes widening at this concerning feeling of tender flesh. “Derek, w-what?”_ _ _

___“I don’t know.. I’m constantly in pain. I go to sleep in pain, wake up with even more. And last night, after- the whole thing, I just couldn’t deal with it, and I didn’t want to lash out at you or make you even more worried than you already were.” Stiles put down the papers as he watched Derek take a seat and continued, “so I said I was going to deliver the papers. But I drove only about 10 minutes out, and pulled up to a quiet terrain, and wolfed out. I thought going on a run would help clear my head.” Derek ran a hand through his hair._ _ _

___“Well now I feel like a complete shit.. I’m sorry. I mean- I knew something was up obviously, but an overactive imagination plus a guy who is totally out of your league equals restlessness.” Stiles tried to give him a sincere smile, but he could see through the tough guy facade Derek was playing off at that moment when he returned it._ _ _

___Stiles couldn’t help but feel guilty now. “I’m thinking we should call Deaton. Maybe.. He knows what’s going on.”_ _ _

___“I mean I feel okay right now. Seriously, don’t worry love.” Derek’s hand met Stiles’ on the table. “Besides, we actually do have a meeting tonight with the social workers. Which means no drinking before it!”_ _ _

___Stiles chuckled, “you say that like I’m an irish man at a pub.”_ _ _

___“That’s because you can be. You do realize alcoholism is also a genetics thing right?”_ _ _

___“It helps me focus short-term when I don’t want to mix meds. OK? If I suddenly start doing shots of jagermeister at 3 in the morning on the stomach of another gay man then I give you permission to intervene.”_ _ _

___Derek shook his head.“ You’ve also got the mouth of a sailor.” He chuckled, bringing the cup of coffee to his mouth._ _ _

___“ALRIGHT MR. I-EAT-RABBITS- who also happens to have a record of indulging your scary ass teeth into the flesh of teenage humans. ” Stiles smirked. “Such a ball of fucking sunshine.”_ _ _

___\----_ _ _

___Stiles ran around frantically that evening, one shoe on, a sock on the other. You don’t know what “hard” is until you’ve tried to iron your shirt and pull an undershirt on at the same time. He took the party to the bathroom as he watched himself perfect yet again another tie knot. “Derek? What are you doing? The social worker’s gonna be here soon!” The human was trying to gather himself to look semi-presentable to the woman when she comes, so it softens the blow when he tells her they are both unemployed as of currently. Stiles made his way towards the living room, wanting to see exactly what the hell Derek was doing. He found the werewolf bracing himself against the vanity in their room, one hand on the dresser, the other on the mirror as breathed roughly. “Der?” Stiles approached him calmly, “are you okay?”_ _ _

___Derek was swaying back and forth, allowing a soft groan slip from his mouth. “Derek?” The words echoed inside his hypersensitive ears. “Der look at me baby,” he put his hand on his back as he noticed the pale-complexion of the werewolf._ _ _

___“I don’t feel good.” He whispered. The fact that Derek couldn’t even try to cover it up with an “i’m fine” scared him. It was definitely serious._ _ _

___“Woah, woah as in ‘I’m nervous don’t feel good’ or ‘gonna hurl’ don’t feel good?” Stiles frantically asked, watching Derek clutch his chest, “okay- second one, come on.”_ _ _

___“Nauseous.” He whispered as Stiles lead him to the bathroom._ _ _

___“Okay- it’s okay baby,” Stiles wrapped his arm around his shoulders._ _ _

___By the time they had gotten to the bathroom, Stiles thanked God for allowing Derek to have perfect aim as he retched his insides out._ _ _

___“Alright, I’m calling and canceling the interview.”_ _ _

___Derek perked up, panting as he wiped his mouth, “no- I’m fine.”_ _ _

___“Derek you’re not fine! You're throwing up half your bodyweight! I’m canceling it. Can’t afford to have you projectile vomit onto yourself, then the woman, then me, then yourself again.”_ _ _

___Derek would’ve put up another fight but another round was coming up his esophagus. At this point, he was just confused as to how he was getting this much out of his system considering he didn’t really have much of an appetite lately._ _ _

___Stiles was three rings in before a sweet voice answered the phone. “Hello? Hi- yes this is him, um listen.. I am really sorry but Derek’s come down ill, and we really can’t afford to have the interview today.. really? Sounds good, thank you so much for understanding, so sorry. You too.” Stiles shoved his phone back in his pocket, going back to aid his husband who sat on the bathroom floor._ _ _

___“Okay work with me here,” Stiles leveled down to Derek as he looked into his eyes. The beautiful ice blue of his iris had been miraged, with a glassy red overtone that threatened their beauty. Stiles pulled Derek’s shirt that he had sweat through off his body. The room was spinning around the wolf, who’s eyes flashed red and got Stiles to perk up._ _ _

___“Derek baby what hurts?” He asked as the wolf threw his head back._ _ _

___“E’rything.” Derek closed his eyes as he, for the first time in his life, felt goosebumps on his skin. “W-what the hell’s this?” Derek’s teeth chattered as he felt an uncomfortable pain and sensitivity on his skin._ _ _

___Stiles felt his arm. “Are you cold?”_ _ _

___“Very.” He rasped._ _ _

___“It’s the chills..” Stiles shot up to his legs, going to their bedroom and grabbed a fluffy blanket that was put away. “Hey- hey hey, keep your eyes open okay? Der?” He tried to resonate with him as he wrapped the warm blanket around his body, despite Derek’s skin burning when he touched him. “C’mon, up, up love.” Stiles seriously tried, and somehow managed to get Derek up on his feet as he dragged him to the car. He helped Derek in, wrapping his body again in the blanket and fastened his seatbelt. “Derek baby, ok we’re going to Deatons okay? It’s a while from here....” Stiles stopped when he realized Derek passed out. _He’s trying so fucking hard not to cry._ _ _ _

___The sun was still up, and that was the only thing reassuring Stiles as he drove. The commute was about an hour, so he called Deaton ahead of time._ _ _

___“Stiles, I’ve been expecting a call.” Deaton’s uncomfortably calm voice mocked him._ _ _

___“I’m sure you have. Listen- are you still gonna be at your office in about an hour?”_ _ _

___“Yes. Why?”_ _ _

___“I’m on my way.” Stiles swallowed, “Derek’s sick. Scott May have explained. Like badly. Like he has the flu.”_ _ _

___“What are the symptoms?” Deaton asked._ _ _

___“It’s been rough lately. It started with I think chest pains that we mistook for panic attacks. And then he started fainting a bit, and it turned into stomach ache and now he’s got the chills..” Stiles glanced at his husband. His gorgeous, poor husband. His bunny toothed, celebrity smiled husband._ _ _

___“Would he happen to have any lesions?”_ _ _

___“Actually.. yeah. Well no. I mean- he showed me some on his chest, they’re like burn marks, but I couldn’t see anything. I thought maybe he was just having.. phantom pains or something. But then I felt his chest and you could tell there was something there. Or not there for lack of a better term.” Stiles explained thoroughly._ _ _

___“Okay I understand. I will be here in exactly one hour, and I can’t imagine you’re gonna beat me here so I will wait all night if I have to.” Deaton held the phone up to his years. In front of him? Scotty McCall._ _ _

___“Shit- sorry I will- thank you- I will see you.” Stiles hung up just as he missed a turn. He pulled over, not knowing where the hell he was as he made his way down a one-way. “Fuck! God fuck it all to hell!” He slammed the top of the steering wheel. Stiles huffed, allowing to exasperate of all his anxiety that racked his bones. He ran his hands through his hair when he felt his throat close up, allowing his head to rest on the top of the steering wheel. Stiles has never felt any weaker up until this moment. How the hell was he supposed to get Derek help when he can’t get his own shit together? How is he supposed to take care of Derek when he can’t even take care of himself? He drew a long breath before looking up at the werewolf. His features were strikingly pale, and he could almost hear his raspy breath. Stiles just needs to pretend to get his shit together at least, just to drive them in one piece. The sun was starting to set. Derek was starting to stir and tremble from the chills. Stiles was starting to piece himself back together as he started to car up again._ _ _

___“Stiles....” his eyes fluttered, welcoming him to a motion-full world as he was suddenly on his feet._ _ _

___“Hey- hey we’re here.. okay Deaton’s gonna help you baby.” Stiles calmly said, managing to great Alan as he helped he get the sick werewolf in._ _ _

___Stiles watched as Derek was laid onto the table. The werewolf was breathing hard as fatigue battled against him._ _ _

___“Derek, long time no see. Not the way I wanted to break the streak but- I’ll take what I can get.” Deaton chuckled, putting on rubber gloves._ _ _

___Stiles was met by a figure who had come out of the shadows, and into a hearty embrace. Scott. No words were exchanged, because their friendship relied solely on giving each other certain expressions and looks, and of course- telepathy. They all gathered around the table were the wolf laid. They had saved the reconciliation for later._ _ _

___Derek starred up, his pupils drowning out as he stared up into the harsh fluorescent lights that welcomed him. Everything felt so… surreal._ _ _

___“Derek? You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Deaton’s very calm voice echoed, and when Derek could do nothing but stare, he turned to Stiles with a raised eyebrow._ _ _

___“He’s been out of it since the car ride…” Stiles said as he watched the man flash a light in the werewolf’s eyes._ _ _

___“You said there were.. Burn marks. Yes?”_ _ _

___Stiles nodded. “I mean- that’s what he said. I didn’t see anything. On his chest.”_ _ _

___Deaton glanced at Scott before trying to speak to Derek again. “Derek, can you hear me? I’m just gonna take a look at your chest okay?”_ _ _

___The werewolf was focused on not projectile vomiting everywhere, so everyone had been drowned out._ _ _

___The veterinarian pulled up his shirt, revealing a perfectly unblemished chest._ _ _

___“You sure Derek wasn’t just… delusional?” Scott nudged Stiles._ _ _

___His best friend frowned, “I don’t.. Know. I-I felt something there, I think. Maybe.”_ _ _

___Deaton rubbed his hands over the skin of the werewolf. His lips pursed and he froze as he felt something. Something tender, as if skin had been broken._ _ _

___“Scott.” Deaton looked up, “why don’t you take a look. With your eyes.”_ _ _

___Scott glanced at Stiles, changing his eyesight with a flash red._ _ _

___Looking down, Scott’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.” He whispered, glassy eyes threatening his alpha state._ _ _

___ _

___“What? What is it?” Stiles impatiently asked._ _ _

___“It’s like- burns,” he stopped, “like almost first and second degree burns.” Scott’s mouth gaped, blinking until he could no longer see it. “And he’s not healing.”_ _ _

___Stiles’ heart fucking broke. He frowned even more, as he threw his hand to the nape of his neck in worry. “He’s hurting and I can’t even see it.” Stiles’ voice was quiet._ _ _

___“There may be a way. But it’s going to hurt like hell, so I need you both to be there for him.” Deaton spoke grimly, as he proceeded to receive a small jar._ _ _

___“Wolfsbane?” Scott immediately recognized the substance contained._ _ _

___“That, mixed with a small helping of mountain ash, and stirred into the oils of a mistletoe plant.”_ _ _

___That’s gotta hurt like a bitch._ _ _

___It was mixed into a jar with a popsicle stick until it turned into a hated salve. Stiles quivered at the thought of that thing even touching Derek, remembering what it was like when he himself was poisoned with mistletoe, and when Derek was shot with a wolfsbane bullet._ _ _

___Together, Scott held down Derek by his arm, using his free one to hold Derek’s hand and take some pain away. Stiles did the same._ _ _

___Deaton took a calm breath before place a generous portion on Derek’s abdomen, only to hear a cry release from Derek._ _ _

___ _

___“Do not let go of him.” Deaton warned. When he spread the mixture out, Derek shook, releasing a growl and a shriek at the same time as his eyes turned red. HIs fangs pulled out in act of a coping mechanism. “Derek it’s okay- it’s okay-” Deaton reassured him, spreading the salve out even more, allowing for the burn marks to appear on the man’s chest. Stiles bit his tongue, not wanting to say anything and he closed his eyes and pushed down on his husband even further when he became restless._ _ _

___“Derek it’s okay baby-” Stiles whispered as Derek shuffled underneath them, roaring at the immense amount of unthinkable pain he was in right now._ _ _

___Derek screamed as the solution was burning through his skin, writhing uncontrollably with his eyes closed. Stiles’ lips trembled as he watched the burn marks solidify right in front of his eyes._ _ _

___And slowly, but all at once, like the way you fall in love, or go to sleep, the way John Green said, it stopped._ _ _

___He stopped._ _ _

___A sizzling hiss poured out of the werewolf’s chest as he heavily breathed, once his horrifying trembling had com to a cease. Derek closed his eyes, allowing a daze to succumb him._ _ _

___“W-what- is-is he okay?” Stiles was on the verge of a meltdown as his voice shook._ _ _

___“I think he’ll be fine, Stiles. When a werewolf is injured with wolfsbane, we tend to burn it in order to heal it, so Derek’s body is sort of counteracting that.”_ _ _

___Stiles held Derek’s hand closers, kissing his knuckles gently as he ran his hands through his hair._ _ _

___Deaton glanced at the worried young man, who seemed to turn pale._ _ _

___“Stiles?” Scott rushed the his friend, who seemed to suddenly pile over himself as his body thudded against the ground._ _ _

___It only took a few seconds for Scott to pair two and two together as to what was going on._ _ _

___“Deaton..”_ _ _

___“I know. I’m afraid that’s what it is.” Deaton sighed as he got a washcloth to put over Stiles’ forehead, whom’s head was tucked on top of Scott’s crumpled jacket. “Because if it is- I do not know how to fix it.”_ _ _


	5. Here, but Not Really Here..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Please let me know if you have any suggestions with the characterization of Stiles. It's a wee bit difficult, especially him as an adult because of how dynamic he is, like how dark and frustrated he can get to cracking punchlines about someone's circumcision. But that's what I adore about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! hope everything is going well :) sorry for the amount of mistakes, i don't beta my work because it's low-key a)such a force and b) i'd never get anything uploaded because I'd get obsessed with making it perfect. I deeply apologize for the formatting of my work and spacing because I type the chapters on google docs first, so sometimes they don't format the same way and all my spaces/identations etc. get messed up.

Stiles was welcomed back to the world with a throbbing headache and his best friend and his sick husband bickering right over him. 

“Stiles-” Scott let out a goofy grin. He hasn’t changed one bit from high school. Hell- Stiles doesn’t even know where he’s at right now. So many things are left ignored and unanswered when you have an actual life. 

The young man on the ground groaned, “what.. The hell?” He questioned softly. 

“You passed out. You’ve been out for a while, starting to worry me.” Stiles stared up to the voice that was speaking, watching Scott do that half-crooked smile thing. It had never occured to Stiles that maybe he was attracted to Scott, for he’s really just been with girls his entire life until Derek came along. Yep. That’s what Stiles was thinking about right now. It made him want to kiss Derek’s soft lips, and caress his coarse dark 5 o’clock shave that he just adored so much. 

“Guess I must have had locked my knees without realizing..”

“Way to steal my thunder, _sunshine_.” Derek smiled. He looked fine, in comparison to how Stiles had seen him last. Stiles watched as Derek went to pull his shirt back on. 

“Don’t worry- Deaton gave him something to help with the vomiting.” Scott let him in. 

Stiles sat up sighing, “is he gonna be okay?” 

The younger werewolf looked back at Deaton who had beckoned Derek over. He didn’t exactly know how to answer the question. He didn’t know how to explain the inevitable, so Scott re-directed the subject. “Are you okay?” His voice was raw.

Stiles stared at Scott for a second, his eye slightly twitching. 

“I mean are you- really okay? Stiles you just recovered from a traumatic thing,” he stammered for a second, “but I mean, have you recovered- completely? fully?… maybe you should- look I know you love Derek and all but..”

“I’ve been taking my meds. I’m good Scott, if that’s what you’re implying. I’m just on edge.” Stiles brushed it off, replying with a very cold comment. He rubbed a hand at his eyes, trying to distract himself before he says something irreversible and rude to Scott. Stiles was just stressed, but thankfully Scott understood that. 

Meanwhile, Derek and Deaton were having a very worrisome discussion. 

“Derek- I know that you know what is going on.” Deaton calmly said. 

Derek stirred, unsure of what to think of it, only for a following thought proceeded to come out of his mouth, “don’t tell Stiles. Please. He’ll think it’s his fault.”

Ah yes. Don’t tell Stiles. The ol do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do plan. The _don’t tell Stiles that everytime he affectionately touches his husband it burns his skin and whenever Derek is hurting, Stiles will hurt to because he’s a fucking alpha losing his pack and Stiles has a spark that won’t be ignored by his soulmate_ plan. The ignore the fact that Stiles is the reason why Derek can’t breathe when they are going down town plan. Perfect. It’s foolproof.

The veterinarian rose his brows, ticking at this bad move. Hiding things from Stiles? Bad choice. Hiding things from Stiles because he’s causing them? Uber bad choice. “Derek it won’t be long until he finds out. You know he will.”

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. I’m trying to protect him.”

Deaton stopped. “From what? You? when can’t change under control?”

“ _From killing himself_ when it gets too much!” Derek lashed out, then brought his tone down. “I’m sorry- but Stiles is a mess. A lovely mess that I love like I have never loved before, and it physically pains me seeing him in distress. He’ll be afraid. He won’t have control over the tendencies. And I can’t be there for him if he is trying to take care of me.” 

Scott was listening into the trainwreck of the conversation they were having, and as soon as Stiles even tried to get up, Scott _insisted_ that he relaxed. 

“Derek. There is no rationality in anything you are saying. He needs to know. I can’t help you without taking more time to research it.” Deaton begged, attempting to even reason with him. “You know damn well, that it’s going to start to hurt Stiles- it already has.”

“I’m leaving. Thanks- but no thanks.” Derek flashed a grin at Deaton. 

What the hell is going on? 

“Derek. You’re constantly in pain, you’re burning when your husband touches you, you get sick when you get intimate- _You know what this is_. Your mother-”

“Do not even bring her up!.” Derek growled, clenching his teeth. A pointed finger had scorned all the confusion and rage and Derek.

Scott came in interrupting as he overhead the distruptance coming from, otherwise, two supposedly civil men. “What’s going on? Guys?”

“Come on Stiles- we’re going. Bye Scott.”

Deaton scoffed, sighing as he watched the boy who grew up, threaten to lose everything he’s wanted in his life. 

Stiles’ eyes widened as confusion tickld him pink. “Wait so we’re just-”

The door was slammed behind the alpha. 

Deaton closed his eyes, blinking disapprovingly as he sighed before returning to Stiles, who seemed to be in a rush. “What the hell? So-”

“Stiles, I’m going to be honest with you.” Deaton clicked his tongue as he inhaled a sharp breath. His lying was against every fiber in his being, and it was tearing him apart but he can’t go against Derek’s wish. I mean, he literally grew up as a father to the kid when he lost his father. “I don’t know exactly what, but something externally is physically and emotionally damaging to Derek. It’s most certainly a supernatural force, something you obviously have no control over, so all I ask is that you stay close to him, but watch when you two are becoming intimate. His emotions may get.. Out of hand. And his physical state my decrease in health.” Deaton explained, “I’m sorry I can’t help you any further. I haven’t...really seen anything like this before. He’s experiencing human symptoms and human injuries. As if the primal side of him is slowly separating.”

Stiles took a deep breath, knowing Derek was waiting for him in the car. He nodded in agreement as he tried to smile through his concerns, but before leaving after he had said his goodbyes and welcomed another two hour drive, he felt Deaton’s hand grab him by the arm to stop him. “Stiles, when he starts feeling serious symptoms, serious human ailments- he needs _human treatment._ ” 

Stiles swallowed thickly, before thanking them both for dropping what they were doing to help him. 

It was the middle of the night when they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. It was pouring rain, because yes- Stiles Stilinski is so hated by the universe that he is able to make it rain cats and dogs in southern California. “Hey.. what’s going on? C’mon man, I drove an hour and a half just for you to slam the door?”

“I’m just tired..”

“No.. you’re upset. You’re fuming, and you don’t have to be supernatural to figure it out.” Stiles stopped. He looked at his husband, whose eyes were still swollen, and stroked his thumb through his palm. “Hey.. look at me baby. What happened?”

“Stiles can we just go home?!” Derek burst. “I’m sorry just-” 

“Hey, everything that just happened back there? I’m not-” the young man chuckled wryly, “I’m not exactly deaf.. Dee’, why didn’t you let Deaton help?” Stiles

“God damn it Stiles! I don’t need help! _That’s why! Because I’m supposed to fucking help you and I can’t do a fucking thing if I’m freaking out!”_

All of a sudden, Derek started bawling his eyes out.  
I mean- literally sobbing in the passenger seat of the blue Jeep that came from fucking Oregon or Washington or Nevada or wherever the hell it came from. 

Stiles turned the ignition off and he reclined back, letting out a loud huff. There’s something about watching your significant other breaking down right net to them. No wonder Derek always tiptoed around Stiles. No wonder Derek has had sleepless nights because of Stiles, because he would wait for him to wake up and scream from a recurring nightmare after his accident. He’d stay up, listening to Stiles’ heart beat for any erratic ups or downs. The human held the werewolf’s hands who was breaking down in the car. 

“Derek baby, I’m here. I’m right here love.” Stiles kissed his knuckle once again as he stopped for a second. 

That night, (or that morning considering it had drawn into one at the morning) Stiles drew a long, warm, incredibly seductive bath for Derek as he made some grub. And that night, Stiles and Derek both sat down at the dinner table, when he apologized for the night. He took the time to fully explain what the hell was going on, explaining that what Derek was suffering from was something they don’t have a cure for currently. It’s as if Derek is losing touch with his inner wolf somehow, as if he’s turning human. It’s screwing with all of his actions, emotions, and his health as well. It’s the explanation for the passing out, the throwing up, the bursting out. 

“And there’s no cure?” Stiles was very serious, very professional about the whole thing, not even taking a time to crack a joke. His hand twitches occasionally now and then as it held Derek’s, but the werewolf figured it was more of a coping I’m-nervous mechanism thing and not a physical calamity thing. “I mean we just gotta find out what’s causing it and it’ll be over. Right?”

“Deaton’s..working on it.” Derek sighed, rubbing his hand off the back of his head, “I need to call him and apologize.” The older man was so ashamed of what had happened at the office, and the guilt had been eating away at hi inside. Obviously, he wasn’t thinking straight, but that wasn’t Derek’s genuine fault. 

Stiles downed his cup as he thanked God for putting another plate of food in his stomach (yes, Virginia, apparently Stiles thinks there is a God. A near-death experience does that to a person who really hasn’t been to church since he was 6.) He was perfectly content at today’s progress, and at the fact that they at least now know what’s going on, but there was still a lingering, burning question he just _had_ to ask. After all, he definitely takes after the sheriff. 

“Der’ honey… sorry,” he grinned as he picked up the table with him, “just curious- you know me…. Um.. Deaton, mentioned your mom.” Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed into a dark caterpillar as he pursed his lips. 

Derek shrugged it off, “The heat of the moment, Stiles. It just got to me. I’ve never really felt like that for a while, so anything he said I was bound to just lash out. Deaton didn’t deserve that.” He felt the heat take over his cheeks, but was content enough when Stiles’ badgering, although he absolutely adores his badgering, ceased. 

Stiles clicked his tongue, his smile turning more into a desperate grin, “don’t worry about it..We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Stiles smiled. It Derek wasn’t concerned, then Stiles shouldn’t be concerned right? 

The human looked straight into the eyes of the werewolf. They were his signature icy-blue, a blue that reminds of crystalized snowflakes but also of a refreshing swim in the lake. But, now, whenever Stiles looks into them, he can’t see Derek anymore. It’s like he’s there, but he’s not really _there_. Oh something wicked this way comes. And it scared the hell out of him because the last time someone said that, it was to Stiles when he was void. 

The darkness of the night had seemed to come quicker than it should have. Of course, Stiles hadn’t been in bed until three in the morning, for his crime board beckoned for his lust. He was so ready for his interview in a couple of days, and he was so ready to finally get into the groove of a semi-normal life, a job, a family. You know. Not wolfy things. After this all blows down of course. 

“Der... not now.” Stiles groaned, still half asleep as he tossed into his side, feeling the brawny hands of his husband. But still he persisted, greedily touching up the human with seductive fingertips. “Babe. It’s literally three in the morning.” He turned to face him, but suddenly Derek was on top of Stiles, caressing and nuzzling him with all the adrenaline coursing through. “Der’ seriously, I gotta get some sleep.” But when Stiles opened his eyes, bright red eyes shined right back at him. He could feel Derek’s claws scratching his back, almost unintentionally tearing at his skin. “Derek?” Stiles rasped, trying to hold his hands to get his attention, before realizing he wasn’t awake.

“Derek baby- Derek you’re asleep,” Stiles whispered, afraid of agitation. Soon, the human could hear the wolf growling very threateningly. “Derek!” Stiles called out as soon as his hand had been met with claws, the growls persisting. His eyes were very well  
Open, but Derek wasn’t _there_. “Wake up Der.. wake up- it’s Stiles- it’s me!” A calm voice turned into an anxiety ridden one, as soon as Derek started to trash more violently. His claws went underneath Stiles’ chest as he physically felt him draw blood on his lower abdomen. Stiles yelled out in pain as Derek retreated to nuzzle himself in the crook of Stiles’ neck. His heart was racing, and he could barely think let along breathe. If this was Derek trying to get Stiles into new kink, it’s definitely not working. Stiles was trying to viciously process this whole thing, contemplating whether it was a dream or not. Roughly grinding against the small human, Derek grabbed at Stiles’ hands who tried to push him off, only to be met with a agonizing, piercing scream. 

“Agghhh! Derek my hand!” Stiles screamed the first time, only to pierce his ears the second time, _”DEREK! MY HAND!”_

Suddenly everything stopped. 

Derek’s eyes returned to an icy blue.

Stiles skidded across the bed, nervously backing up from underneath him until he fell off. He groaned as he made his way across the room, tears falling and whimpers escaping from him as his back hit the wall.

Derek returned to normal, only to be hit by a state of confusion and exhaustion as he saw Stiles, sobbing with his hand clutched against his chest. 

“What?” Derek whispered. He was breathing hard, erratic and all. It took him a while before he could connect the dots, considering Stiles shook every time he tried to get closer. Stiles was panting, his face red with fear and anxiety. His right hand seemed bruised, or as if he burst a bunch of capillaries. “Stiles what- what did I do?” The whispers got quieter as he panted. 

Stiles was rocking back and forth, crying as he felt his hand, his wrist visibly injured. The human’s face strained with tired, glassy eyes. His nose and lips were tinged a rouge red. Derek could see blood bleeding through the Stiles’ shirt. 

“Fuck Stiles.” He stepped closer. “Honey I am so- so sorry, I’m-“ 

“Don’t-“ Stiles jumped to his legs, “I mean- it’s okay- you didn’t.. didn’t know.” He quietly said in between gasps. 

“Stiles-“ 

“It’s okay, it’s okay- _I can’t- I can’t_ “ Stiles furrowed his brows, holding a hand up as if to stop. Derek watched as Stiles squirmed his way towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A certain click racketed Derek’s bones, signaling that Stiles had locked the door behind him. 

Stiles couldn’t breathe. A part of him was begging God to let him know that this was all just some messed up dream. He forced his body over to look in the mirror. The crimson from his blood had seeped through the fabric of his shirt. Definitely gonna stain. He rubbed his good hand over his face, wiping the mixture of saliva and tears off his skin. “Shit.” He winced as he pulled the shirt off and applied some hydrogen peroxide. It bubbles fiercely, reminding Stiles of the whole night. He packed a bandage over it as best as he could, not even caring at that point as he took deep breaths. The human desperately scoured for any form of hand brace he had as a spare, or else he’s definitely going to have to schedule a doctor’s appointment. 

Derek growled, tempting Stiles to come out and check up on him but he never did. He genuinely cried that night again, and not because of the dime sized holes he had pierced into his own palms. “Stiles..” He could hear his heart beating a thousand miles a minute, but it felt close, and lead him to presume that he was sitting against the door. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else he could say except for that, but the words never actually escaped his mouth.

Stiles fell asleep on the bathroom floor, and Derek let him. He didn’t want to bust through the door and possibly hurt Stiles or scare him again, so he had retreated to the guest room. 

The human woke up, beating his husband at the crack of dawn once again. A heinous searing pain threatened his hand when it involuntarily trembled. “Fuck,” he whispered, throwing his head back. The night leading up to this morning was a hazy fog in his mind, with a bloody t-shirt that he should dispose of and tremors as reminders. He quietly got up, inspecting the bedroom as he gazed his eyes upon a perfectly clean room. 

He was sort of hoping Derek wouldn’t be awake.

It wasn’t long until he scoured the kitchen before realizing Derek had either a: fallen asleep in the guest room or b: run away. His detective clues head lead him to opening the door of the guest room, only to his dismay, to find an empty room. Immediately, his first thought was to call him, but Stiles’ couldn’t think of the thought of even talking to him. He’s not mad, he’s not angry, just.. Disheartened, and maybe a little scared? Stiles decided to text, only to his dismay to see the phone erratically vibrating in his palm. The damn tremors were back. 

Stiles angrily huffed, tossing his phone across the room when his frustrations got the best of him. “Fuck!” he yelled out. 

His pacing had taken him on a joyride all up and down the house. He’s cursing with every single in the book as he takes a double dosage of his pills and an adderall. His fingers trail up his shirt, lacing the crusty skin that had formed to seal up the scratches that had been seeming to heal a little bit, nothing too serious. He needed to shower, he felt so _dirty_.

His heart beat fast when a phone call caused it to ring, pouncing at the answer button, “Derek!”

“Stiles?”

He sighed. “Scott.. Dude.”

“You called me four times last night. What’s going on man? Stiles is everything okay? Where’s Derek? Stiles?” The questions came rapid fire, one after another once Stiles stopped talking. His hand was hurting like a bitch, shaking as if he were having seizure. The memory of even dialing Scott last night was so distant he couldn’t find it. 

So Stiles told him all about it. He told him what Derek did, told him how he can’t find him, told him how it got so bad that he fell asleep in the bathroom, and told him that he took a double dosage of his meds. He told him how this was the first time, that Stiles has _ever_ been afraid of Derek. 

“Stiles. I’m coming.” Scott hung up.


	6. Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! this is a lengthy (and messy) chapter, but I hope you all enjoy!

“Jesus!– oh god, It’s you.” Stiles jumped when the door knob jiggled and allowed entrance into the home, “how the hell did you get here so fast? _Did you run_ all the way here Scott?” Stiles smiled as he poured a cup of coffee. 

“Morning to you too man.” Scott gave him back a grimace, closing the door behind him. “Deaton and I trekked out this morning, your phone calls really scared us so we stationed out at one of his friends’ offices nearby.” 

The werewolf zoned in on his senses, noting how genuinely quiet the entire world was until he heard Stiles’ heart thumping erratically, the same why it does when he has panic attacks. 

“Stiles? Hey, are you okay man? What happened last night?” Scott stopped, looking into the his best friends’ eyes that looked so incredibly tired. So many things were possibilities, all the ideas zoomed through the werewolf’s.

Stiles’ hand vibrated as he grabbed his cup of coffee, trying not the make eye contact with his buddy. 

“...I could hear your heart beating a mile away,” he stepped closer, picking up on the hand brace that wasn’t on last time he saw. Scott furrowed his brows skeptically before asking the inevitable, “Your tremor’s back. Stiles– did Derek hurt you?” 

Stiles perked his head up as he ran his hand over his face. 

“Let me see Stiles! Your hand!” Scott’s overprotectiveness kicked in, ordering for the young man to take off the brace. 

“He didn’t mean it! He didn’t even–” He stuttered in frustration and glassy eyes. 

“Stiles let me see it!” 

Stiles huffed, ripping the damned black brace off his hand to reveal the bruising mess he called his hand. His knuckles look as if he had been punching a brick wall, and his long, skinny fingers appeared raw. 

Scott drew a painfully sharp gasp, interlacing his fingers with Stiles’ as he beared through a burning fire in his veins to take away some of pain. “Where is he?” 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles looked down as he spoke, “Scott he didn’t mean it.. Honestly, it doesn’t even hurt–”

_”Where is he?”_

_”He was asleep Scott! He just wolfed out! I don’t know where the hell ran off to because he felt so guilty that he hurt me, and he’s never ever laid a finger on me before! Okay? So I don’t fucking know where he went and he’s sick and I don’t know what’s going on and my fucking hand and I’m a fucking mess right now! I can’t even get my own shit together, how am I supposed to take care of him Scott!”_ Stiles rambled, pouring his heart and soul as Scott pulled him in tight from a warm hug. 

“We’re gonna figure it out man, we will. Okay? Just take a breather.” Scott guided as Stiles’ heart pulsed through him against his chest, “here, sit down man.” Scott pulled out the chair and he took a seat. Inspecting the cup and the contents, Scott poured it out into the sink, replacing it with a cold cup pulpy orange juice, the pure stuff. Clearly Derek had gone shopping instead of Stiles. “I don’t think coffee is helping your case.” 

Stiles thanked him, but had left the cup untouched for a while.

“So he just disappeared?”

Stiles explained to him every detail as to what had happened, from the moment that they left Deaton’s, to this morning when Stiles woke up on the bathroom floor. Every now and then, Scott would slide his hand over Stiles when it started to tremble, and every now and then, Stiles was relieved of a piercing pain. The werewolf had examined Stiles’ hand further as he unveiled the details, noticing his ring finger and pinky were slightly off and awkward. 

“Stiles, I think you broke a couple of fingers man.. Wait take off the brace again.” Scott protested. 

“I mean it kinda hurts like a bitch, but they’ll heal,” Stiles defended himself as he pulled off the brace from his right hand. He seriously didn’t have time to cry and make a big deal out of a couple of digits.

Scott held his buddy’s hand, examining it for something he had failed to see earlier. He pushed Stiles’ palm backwards, causing Stiles to cuss as he winced. “Probably sprained your wrist too.” 

The young man put the brace back on as he shrugged it off, “Scott, relax I’ll heal.”

“Come on, up.” 

He furrowed his brows towards his best friend in defiance. 

“Dude, I’m not doing anything else until you get checked out. You need to heal properly, plus the tremor should be noted of too.” 

Somehow, thirty minutes later, Stiles Stilinski had found himself in the waiting room with Scott at the hospital. “I hate this place _so_ much..” he reminded Scott, and rightfully so. Stiles would call Derek every ten minutes or so, praying he’d pick up but to no avail, he was sent to voicemail every time. When he had been called the check in, Scott accompanied him like the great friend he was. 

A nurse greeted them both before asking for Stiles’ information. 

“Primary doctor here and reason for visiting today?” She asked as she typed his health insurance information into the computer. 

Stiles suggested a man named Evan Tyler as he spoke, “Uh.. I-I banged up my hand pretty good.” Stiles was doing that no-i’m-not-nervous-that’s-not-why-my-knee-is-jumping-up-and-down-thing, the anxiety that fumed off him made Scott’s nostrils sting and flare indefinitely. 

“Any previous medical history that could have possibly complicate your current condition?” 

“Um.. yeah I had an- an accident a year ago.. Caused a hand tremor, and um.. As-as of n-now it’s back so..” Stiles quietly honed as he tried to avoid making eye contact. Suddenly, he felt a wave of relief when Scott had put a hand forcefully on his knee that wouldn’t stop jittering. 

“And you are?” The lady looked over the computer at Scott.

“A friend.” 

She finished up and asked them to follow her into a room. After taking Stiles’ vitals, she prepared a new sheet on the bed and asked them to stay put; the doctor would be in shortly. (Of course, we all know “shortly” means five fucking years.) Given to Stiles was a pen and a thin packet for releases and usual –adult– legality forms for the services that would be performed today (in other words, a thousand dollar fine for every signature they make you write.)

Scott stood with crossed arms, a pose that reminded Stiles of Derek. He had to hold his right hand down with his left in order to get it to stop from shaking because frankly at this point, he was in excruciating pain he didn’t notice earlier before. Taking off the restraint on his hand, Stiles forced his fingers to relax with the grasp of a pen in between, but alas, he couldn’t get past the letter M in his first name as he tried to sign. “Fucking…” Stiles cussed under his breath as he gave it another go, only for the pen to not even be able to make it to the paper. “God– _fuck!_ ” Stiles took a shaky breath, all of a sudden feeling very claustrophobic and restrained in the small room.

“Okay, okay– maybe I’ll just sign it instead..” Scott took the pen and papers from Stiles, who had been incredibly threatened by the act of signing. “Relax dude. We’ll think about the whole Derek thing after. Be selfish for once and think about yourself..” Scott comforted him as he noticed the dark circles under Stiles’ eyes that were incredibly apparent in the harsh artificial lights of the hospital. 

Stiles could feel his face turning red, as if the collar on his shirt were physically strangling him. This time however, Stiles didn’t feel as if he couldn’t breathe, he wasn’t heavily breathing. Instead, feelings of impending doom and death has lurked over him, forcing his brain to make up monsters that were just in his head. His knee started to jump up and down, as his heart started to race profusely again, in which Scott immediately caught on. Stiles rubbed his face, pinching at his eyes as he held himself against the edge of the bed. “I think I’m gonna pass out-“ he said quietly as he could feel the world spinning around him. His throat was raw and dry, like cotton and it felt as if he were drowning without being in water. Stiles’ hand was now vibrating the way someone with Parkinson’s would have as he closed his eyes. 

Scott definitely said something to the young man, but everything else with in a seeing or hearing radius was blurred out and distant. He had such a sudden overwhelming urge to run out of the room as the overheard sounds of the hospital buzzed in his ears. 

Stiles could tell Scott was holding up his ten fingers, but couldn’t focus enough to actually count. His right hand wouldn’t stop trembling, and his left would soon join it as it intertwined itself in the fabric of his shirt. He ran his hands over his face again, unable to make out any solid sounds or faces when suddenly he started to see two. Physically feeling his body temperature increase exponentially, the two faces had suddenly disappeared, and then reappeared as four. 

“Alright Mr. Stilinski, just relax buddy. Deep breaths, you’re having an anxiety attack.” He heard a familiar voice droning to him, and it wasn’t Scott’s. 

Stiles felt so incredibly out out of it, and just overall distant from the world. His breathing wasn’t crazy, but rather labored. 

“Nothing bad is going to happen, you’re okay.” The voice said again, as Stiles felt himself being pushed back to lay against the bed. Something plastic and artificial was slung around his head and put over his mouth. “Good, just like that.” The voice comforted once more. 

Stiles felt himself getting heavier and heavier until he closed his eyes. And finally, he felt relief. 

“Mr. Stilinski can you hear me? Stiles?” The man asked when he noticed Stiles had completely relaxed. 

 

“W-what happened?” Scott asked in concern.  
“He’s gonna be okay.. He fainted.” He answered back. His white pristine lab coat had _Tyler_ embroidered into it, as Scott watched the man take his stethoscope to Stiles’ chest under his shirt. 

“That can’t be normal–” Scott protested. 

“In Mr. Stilinski’s case, it is more probable considering his circumstances.” He explained, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Stiles’ limp arm. Scott sighed, feeling a little bit more relaxed, knowing that the doctor at least knew what he was doing. It was evident that Stiles has come in more than once having a full blown panic attack, so he was expectant of it. “I’m sorry I should introduce myself, Dr. Evan Tyler. I’m his physician.”

“Scott McCall, His friend.” He gave him a smile as they shook hands. 

“I was gonna say– the only other contact of his I know is his husband..” Tyler said as he took off the cuff from Stiles’ arm, he thought of asking where Hale was, but decided not to cut into a wound had there been any. “His blood pressure’s still pretty low. Would you happen to know if he’s been having fainting spells again?”

Scott shook his head innocently, “I haven’t really seen him since after the accident, I just stopped by this week, I live in D.C.” 

“He may be under extreme stress.. It wouldn’t be just the hand.” The doctor concluded as he flipped through a couple of files in which they were labeled under “M. Stilinski.” Scott listened in, hearing a normal heart beat pace and tat lingering horrible feeling had vanished. Brown eyelashes started to flutter as Stiles started to come to.

“Stiles. Welcome back,” Tyler grinned at him, asking him to follow the flashlight he had with his eyes. He pulled off the oxygen mask and allowed Stiles to run a hand over his face as he sighed. He could feel his hand starting to tremor in pain again, as it had felt like random jolts of electricity coursing through his veins. “You fainted for a few minutes after having an anxiety attack.” He explained as Stiles told him he remembered what happened. The young man had tried everything in his power to avoid eye contact with Scott, for some weird reason he had felt embarrassed. “I know this isn’t the reason you came but, maybe it’s time you get checked out again, for a better diagnosis,” he suggested as he implied therapy. “Are you still taking the venlafaxine?” 

Stiles ran his hand through his hair, “that would be everyday.. Except for this morning. I may or may not have forgotten to take it,” he said with a disappointed sigh. 

Derek would have reminded him to take it. 

“Still getting intense panic attacks even though you are taking it?” The doctor asked. 

Stiles nodded, attempting to clench his fist, “but there’s usually a trigger. It’s rarely random.” 

The doctor clicked his tongue in agreement, “well– we can talk in a follow up appointment that I’ll write you up for Sunday morning. In the meanwhile, just try to take it easy and think about getting an alternate type of treatment. I’d ask that your husband be present so it’s a mutual conversation.” Stiles gave Scott a glance as he watched the man write things down. “Regarding your health, your blood pressure is still on the lower side. Have you eaten anything or– under any stresses or pressures? Sleeping well?” He bombarded. 

No. Ever since high school. And big fat no. 

Stiles pursed his lips as he said in a small voice, “this morning was sort of a mess, so.. I haven’t eaten anything..” He always ate breakfast with Derek. “And I’m sort of always stressed, and there’s work.. and sleep– sleep could always be better,” he continued. He couldn’t lie in front of the doctor because he’s pretty sure Tyler could definitely see the sleep deprivation. His face betrayed him.

“Mr. Stilinski, all work and no play is not the only way,” he smiled, despite him being a doctor at a 24 hours walk-in clinic at the hospital. “Well I’d like you to start trying out a new medication in combination with your adderall, and we’ll touch base sunday.” 

Stiles agreed, watching the doctor hand the prescription and appointment slip to Scott. “Alright,” he pulled up his chair close, “let’s take a look shall we?” Tyler asked in a gentle voice, knowing Stiles is in a very fragile state. The young man’s other hand trembled as he pulled off the brace. “Tremors in both of the hands or are you just nervous?” Stiles looked up sheepishly as Doctor Tyler concluded, “just try to relax. Don’t worry- if there’s something wrong, we’ve get the best doctors out there okay?” He flashed another comforting smile. The doctor took his hand and Scott could hear Stiles’ heart skip a beat. Stiles was even more than nervous, he was downright terrified, and in front of an incredibly attractive, accomplished guy. He’s never really thought about being attracted physically and emotionally to any other man other than Derek, and it’s never even been a question, but something about being so incredibly vulnerable to Tyler had made Stiles feel guilty. Not to mention, every time he moved his hand he was in excruciating pain. “Can I ask what happened?”

**_“Agghhh! Derek my hand!” Stiles screamed the first time, only to pierce his ears the second time, ”DEREK! MY HAND!”  
Suddenly everything stopped. _**

**_Derek’s eyes returned to an icy blue._ **

**_Stiles skidded across the bed, nervously backing up from underneath him until he fell off. He groaned as he made his way across the room, tears falling and whimpers escaping from him as his back hit the wall._ **

**_Derek returned to normal, only to be hit by a state of confusion and exhaustion as he saw Stiles, sobbing with his hand clutched against his chest._ **

**_“What?” Derek whispered. He was breathing hard, erratic and all. It took him a while before he could connect the dots, considering Stiles shook every time he tried to get closer. Stiles was panting, his face red with fear and anxiety. His right hand seemed bruised, or as if he burst a bunch of capillaries. “Stiles what- what did I do?” The whispers got quieter as he panted._ **

**_“What did I do?_ **

“I- I tripped at home, and kinda fell on it trying to brace myself,” he said horribly un-convincingly, his eyes jumping between the doctor and his best friend. In return, Tyler gave him a skeptical glare, but decided to again, not add salt to the wound. He asked Stiles to bend all of his fingers, resulting in only three being able to fully do so, as the other two came to somewhat of a curve. The vibrations made it a little bit harder to do the job, but nevertheless he persisted. The doctor’s gloves poked and analyzed his ring finger and pinky, then moving onto his wrist as he carefully attempted to move it. There had been some swelling, but it seems to have died down overall in the hand.

He pulled off the gloves as he came to a conclusion, “well good news is, they’re probably not broken, just sprained, maybe fractured. As well as your wrist. Just to be safe, we’re going to get an x-ray.”

“And the bad news?” 

“Well the tremor could either be a side effect of the anxiety or it could be another severely damaged nerve or ligament.” 

“So what does that mean?” Scott asked, breaking his awkward silence that he had been in majority of the visit. 

“It means it’ll either go away with the new medication and maybe just another round of physical therapy, or if it’s really distressed, then he’d need surgery..” Tyler scooted back, grabbing his clipboard again, “no worries though,” he smiled as he spoke, _that damned smile_ , “we’ll have an EMG done to take a look. I’ll be back to call you down, okay?” A nurse had been called down and brought a hospital gown to the room, asking Stiles to change into it. She had also provided a sweet snack and water for the young man to boost his blood pressure. 

Before leaving, the doctor had asked to speak to Scott as Stiles left to go change. “Mr. McCall, I honestly shouldn’t be getting involved– and it’s a lot for me to ask..” 

Scott was seriously expecting him to ask for Stiles’ phone number. 

“But do you know what exactly happened to induce the injury?” Doctor Tyler continued, implying something very serious, “as a personal care provider it’s important to know should there be..” his voice got quite, “an issue at home.” Scott felt his mouth go dry. “It’s just– i’ve seen a lot of hand injuries from falling, and that _isn’t_ one.” 

Scott stuttered, “I’m sorry I- I don’t know, I mean I can usually tell when he’s lying, and I think he was just nervous. I can honestly say I don’t know where Derek is either..” 

The doctor had thanked him regardless before going on his own business. A hour or so passed, and by then, Stiles had gotten all the imaging required, only for them to provide relief. The nerves were most likely spasming, and they were damaged, but nothing some physical therapy and medication couldn’t take care of. After that, Stiles went back to change into his own clothes, but when he took an incredibly long amount of time, Scott checked up on his bud. “Stiles?” He knocked on the bathroom door. He listened in, hearing another painful round of labored breathing. “Stiles are you okay?” 

_”Scott.”_

He opened the door, luckily it hadn’t been locked.

“Hey- hey man, hey–” He found his best friend sitting on the floor against the wall only his khakis. He hadn’t even gotten past pulling his shirt over his head. Stiles’ bare back touched the wall as he slung his free hand over across his chest. 

“I feel sick to my stomach.. It’s hard to breathe.” 

Scott felt his heart drop, “Stiles is this another panic attack?” 

Stiles shook his head. 

It was happening. 

“Ok dude, Stiles listen to me, listen to my voice man.” Scott warbled in front of him as he contorted his face.

 _”I feel my chest– getting tight– so dizzy.”_ He groaned. 

Scott furrowed his brows, “like an asthma attack?” 

Stiles nodded his head. 

“Stiles okay just take deep breaths. Uh- um, okay just sit back okay? Focus on just your breathing.” 

“What’s going on Scott?” Stiles wheezed. _”What’s happening to me?”_

Scott ran his hands through his hair in frustration, “Stiles I promise, I’ll explain to you on the way. Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up or something?” 

“Scott I can’t- I can’t _fucking_ breathe!” Stiles swore he was dying. “It hurts- it- hurts.“ Stiles painfully strained as his face was drained of blood as it turned red. Scott held Stiles with both of his hands grasping his to take as much pain as he possibly could. 

“Oh my god. Derek.” Scott froze. 

“What?” Stiles looked up, he can barely fucking stand up without wanting to projectile vomit. Stiles burst into a horrifying sob as he buried his face in his hands. His legs were absolute jelly right now, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes. 

“Stiles we gotta go- I’m sorry man but get up, up– come on, I know it Hurts- I promise you’ll feel better,” Scott forced Stiles’ shirt over his head and pulled him up, slinging his arm around his shoulders and carrying at least half his body weight. “We gotta go find Derek… you’ll be okay- I promise you this feeling will pass in a few minutes.” Scott was one hundred percent sure that even if it proved to be fatal for Derek, it wouldn’t for Stiles, despite the bonded connection. Somehow, he could just feel it— he could feel death lurking around him as the horrible feeling came back. He seriously even contemplated calling Lydia at this point. As for Malia? All she knows is that Scott’s spending quality time with Stiles. Wherever Derek was, he could physically feel his packmate suffering, and possibly alone, and it would only get worse from here. 

“Derek? Did he call? Did you talk to him?” 

“I’ll explain everything on the way.” 

“Scott!” Stiles yelled in anger and confusion and pain, “just fucking tell- tell me!” He winced and then wheezed, “I’m not- not a kid!”

Scott bit his lip as he helped Stiles out of the hospital and into his car, “Derek might be hurt.” 

As he drove maybe a bit too fast, Scott glanced every now and then at Stiles who became quiet, but improved in condition. So, he told Stiles everything, besides the fact that he’s the one who’s causing Derek pain. He especially emphasized how when Derek is hurt, Stiles will feel some of the same pain, and vice versa. Because he and Derek are on such a high level of a connection, especially being married and technically mates, their bound to physically feel for each other, but as to why? Scott just can’t tell him.

“Are you feeling better?” Scott asked in concern.

Stiles’ eyes were red and tired as his head lolled against the window, but he nodded. “I can breathe finally.. Sorry I took it out on you, Scott. Even though what just happened wasn’t my fault, the first one was. I’ve been shit lately.”

“Stiles man, you deserve the world, not this, not what’s happening.” Scott put his eyes back on the road, remembering the horrifying moment of finding Stiles on the ground, thinking the worst. “Bad things only happen to good people.” 

Stiles sighed, rubbing his face once more, “ugh.. You say good person and all I can think is about how I’ve got the hots for my own doctor. I’m a married man, to an incredibly gorgeous person.” 

Scott chuckled, “it’s natural..” he claimed, before his expression turned serious, “actually.. Stiles um.” Stiles gave him a glance, thankfully not in much pain, as he continued, “He was wondering what happened with your hand. He knows you didn’t fall, and I think implied if Derek–” Suddenly, Scott stopped talking as the horrible feeling worsened. Stiles winced in pain as his hand started to tremble more violently in the brace. Just as Scott made the turn onto their street, a black camaro came into sight on their driveway. Putting two and two together, Scott thought for the worse. He could _physically_ feel his packmate suffering, and not just Stiles. “Stiles, _he’s having a seizure_.”

 _”Shit.”_ Immediately as Scott got remotely close to the house, Stiles got out of the car before it wasn’t even parked. He ran into the house, Scott following behind him. “Derek?” He called out, “Derek!” a second time. 

It wasn’t until Stiles made it upstairs to the bedroom hallway in which he laid his eyes on the heart wrenching scene. 

_”Oh my god– Derek–”_ Scott proclaimed, immediately leaning down to aid the convulsing werewolf on the floor. Stiles was frozen, unable to speak or think as he watched his husband seize on the floor of their house. He couldn’t help but watch Derek throw his head back as his eyes looked up towards the ceiling. Choking noises and erratic breathing haunted Stiles in every single sense and form. The human felt his own fingers started to tremble again, and not just from the tremors, but from anxiety. He definitely heard Scott shouting, “Stiles! Come on man! He needs help! Who do we call?” The words echoed and warbled as if they were ripples in water. Sometime within the timeframe, Scott had questioned Stiles about whether he felt okay himself or not. “Derek, Derek we’re gonna get you help okay?” 

Stiles decided he would get his shit together, even if it were for just a minute. 

_“Stiles, when he starts feeling serious symptoms, serious human ailments- he needs human treatment.”_ He recalled Deaton telling him. 

Instantly, he reached out for his phone, and very calmly dialed 9-1-1. 

“Who are you calling?” Scott asked in concern as Derek’s arms tightened up against his chest. At the same time, his hands twitched unctronablly, the same why Stiles’ had. 

“An ambulance– hello? Please I need an ambulance, my husband’s having a seizure.” Stiles calmly said as the woman on the emergency line. He gave her the address and was told to stay calm, that help was on its way before he hung up. Watching Derek totally lose it this past week made Stiles feel for everyone in his life, Scott, Derek, his father, Lydia– because now he knows they feel when they watch him have a panic attack, or when he had the accident. The worst part of watching Derek suffer was when the older man started to dry heave as saliva dripped down the side of his cheek. His muscles violently contracted then relaxed forcefully. Scott waited for Stiles to even make sense of the call he just made as he watched his friend take a cloth to Derek’s mouth and wiped the excretions. 

“Der’ it’s okay– you’re gonna pull through..” 

“Stiles, he’s a werewolf– what are they going to do?” Scott’s level of worry had reached an ultimatum as he could no longer bear watching Derek Hale convulse. 

“He’s having human symptoms– he needs human treatment.”


	7. Crashing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! so sorry it took long for another update. hope you are all well :-)

“Hi um,” Stiles hesitated, “I’m l-looking for a Derek Hale, he was recently brought in,” the young man asked the man at the front desk as he scrolled through his computer. The halls of UCLA Medical Center had scared him, as he could physically feel death brushing by his back. 

“It seems as he hasn’t been admitted yet so he’s probably getting tests or imaging done,” the man had answered back after asking his relation to the patient, in which he proved his marital status.

“I can’t see him?” Stiles asked. Scott stood by him, noticing the disappointment in his voice and the squinting of his red eyes. Just minutes before, Scott had refused to let Stiles’ drive on the way to the hospital because he was in tears. Just minutes before, Stiles had froze for the second time in his life; the first was when his father, the Sheriff, had almost been murdered by the chimeras in his senior year. But the werewolf really had to give Stiles credit, considering he’s been under the weather, and not to mention under the table, from all the information on the situation. A guilty feeling lingered in the best friend knowing Stiles’ was eventually going to find out, it was all just a matter of time. 

“I’m sorry sir, we’ll let you know when we have any news.” The man went back to typing away as Stiles buried his hands in his hair. 

“Freaking.. Unhelpful robots just freaking type type typing away with no brain to think of their own.” Stiles muttered under his breath, and of course he didn’t mean it– they too had much on their mind, but Stiles was never really good at expressing his grief. He felt Scott’s hand brush up and down his forearm in a comforting motion. 

Scott grabbed a cup of coffee and a water before sitting down in the busy waiting room that afternoon with Stiles. He took a minute to call Deaton, updating him on Derek’s horrific status, only to be told that he is working with a couple of partners to look for some sort of a cure; they found nothing so far. 

“I should call my dad, maybe he’d like to know. Or not. Or I- I don’t know..” Stiles groaned. “I need a coffee..”

“When was the last time you slept Stiles? Like _really_ slept?” Scott gave him skeptical glare, handing him the water bottle. 

Stiles’ elbows were on his knees as his hand traveled to the nape of his neck when he chuckled. He rubbed at his eyes, and frankly, Stiles can’t remember the last time he had a great, fulfilling sleep ever since the accident. He’s always been on edge, and restless, especially as a kid and it sort of just got worse from there. It got to the point where his headspace got so out of control, he would wake himself up in fear of having a nightmare and having to relive the entire situation. He’s basically been loathing off of self-deprecation jokes to keep him awake through the day. He sighed before rubbing his eyes again, which hurt like nothing else because of all the crying, “I don’t know how Derek did this, this waiting thing. And he waited for freaking four months jesus.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up Stiles. As much as it sucks to say, Derek was used to it. I mean– he grew up in this lifestyle that we were thrown into head first. After the fire and Paige… he never really got emotionally attached to anyone until you came along.” Scott reminded him. Paige was the only other person that Derek had ever truly loved. “He was there by your side _every single day_.. I just think he had gotten so good at hiding everything.” Stiles took a deep breath, feeling a little bit more validated in his emotions. “I mean it can’t be easy either to have a disorder Stiles, you gotta give yourself so much more credit.”

Stiles knew what it means to have an anxiety disorder, and he hated being reminded of it, because it made him feel small and pitied. It had gotten to points where it was an accomplishment if he got up out of bed that morning, or if he had fully gotten through the day without the horrible feeling of impending doom. It meant asking Derek to purchase things for him at the store because he couldn’t face the thought of, _god forbid,_ talking to the cashier. It scared him, because in the midst of all this, he’s expected to land a job. He’s expected to raise a child and grow a family. _Stiles isn’t sure he can ever do that_. He feels like he’s in high school all over again. 

“Sometimes I think about what would have happened if Kate didn’t kill Paige..” Stiles suggested quietly, staring blankly out in front of him, “like forget about the whole ‘never got bit’ scenario, and just think about that.. Maybe he’d be happier. Maybe they’d have a normal, happy family. He would’ve had a real life, would’ve maybe had a job, a-and sunday night dinners, and biological kids..”

“Stiles, _he’s so incredibly crazy in love with you. So I really don’t want to hear that depressing shit man._ You don’t even know. When you’re not around, he can’t stop talking about you. Just like you can never stop talking about him. It’s cute.” Scott smiled, feeling very reminiscent of his own relationship as he missed his beloved Malia. He watched Stiles’ worried grimace turn into a small smile. “You’re blushing,” Scott pointed out as he received a whack to the arm.

Stiles’ phone started to buzz as he pulled it out, “ugh it’s the agency..” Stiles became concerned, wishing he could just put the adoption on pause. Getting up to take it, he answered to a very stern voice, and after a few minutes, it started to get heated when he admitted not all the papers and forms had been finished yet. 

 

“Mr. Stilinski, I hope you do realize the longer you hold out your end of the project, the more your chances of the process decreases, as does our patience.” 

Stiles had pursed his lips and bit his tongue for too long before snapping at the woman who had not allowed him a word in edgewise. 

“ _You know what, I am so profoundly sorry that my husband’s been hospitalized okay? So your papers– are going to have to wait. Our whole thing is on pause, as of now.”_

There was a long awkward pause on the line, and Stiles could just imagine her completely disqualifying them from her list of potential parents. 

She cleared her throat, “I’m very sorry.. I was not informed. We can discuss the matters when both you and your husband are ready.”

Damn straight. 

Stiles shoved the phone back in his pockets in frustration, her words of condolences and “i’m sorry”-s, and “get well,” are the absolute worst thing she could’ve said. He was starting to do that nervous pacing thing as he decided to take a walk. 

And Stiles being Stiles, of course had to run into a very, very busy doctor, holding very, very important papers as they sped through the halls. 

“–oh I’m so sorry,” Stiles professed as he immediately went to pick them up, not even giving the guy a look until he handed him his stack of papers. 

“No worries, I shouldn’t have been in such a rush–” The voice was all to familiar as they met eyes. “Stiles?” He smiled with those dashing hazel-green eyes and dark lashes. “I thought I heard a certain Hale was here, but thought I had sent you home”

“Dr. Tyler- ‘er yeah,” he stuttered, “I mean yes, yeah Derek wasn’t feeling too great today.” Abort mission, abort mission. 

“Oh please, call me Evan, we’re grown men.. Something going around the household?” The doctor implied a cold or flu. 

Stiles shook his head awkwardly, “n-no, nothing’s going on in, I mean nothing’s going- going around the house. Just, Derek, I mean I don’t really know what’s..” Stiles stopped himself, “I’m sorry I gotta stop rambling you’re probably so busy.” 

The doctor tried to hide his frown and furrowed his brows, “well take it easy Stiles, we wouldn’t want you ending up in the ER either.” 

The young man fled from the scene as fast as he could and took his seat next to Scott, who was grinning impishly. 

“Stop it. That’s basically the same thing as breaking and entering in some states,” Stiles scolded, who was well aware that the werewolf had eavesdropped on the conversation. 

“It’s like watching a baby deer trying to stand up on its leg for the first time. Just like high school,” Scott made fun, receiving yet another whack to the arm.

“God I’m a horrible person. My husband’s in the hospital and I’m here getting nervous in front of a guy I don’t even know. That’s cheating! I’m a dirty, filthy cheater..” 

Scott gave him a glare, “Don’t worry, you’re not into him. I can tell.” 

“How?”

“Your heart beats incredibly fast when you talk to someone you are affectionate for, and your pupils dilate too. Your eyes were fine. You are just attracted to him..” Scott pictured the doctor in his head, “he kind of looks like Derek too so I can see why..”   
Stiles went silent for a few seconds, receiving a glare from Scott, “what?”

“Scott.. Why’d you guys lie to me?” 

He furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“About the connection between me and Derek. You could’ve told me.” Stiles recalled the conversation. Scott had explained as to why Stiles was starting to feel like he couldn’t breathe, and why he tremors only increased in violence. It was because of the special bond between Derek and Stiles, between wolf and mate. Whatever was hurting Derek, Stiles would feel some sort of effect of it. They were anchors for each other, and when an anchor is down, the ship stops sailing away. What he doesn’t know is that it was himself that was hurting Derek. “You knew I was eventually going to feel it… w-what, were you trying to protect me or something?”

Scott stammered for a second, “Stiles I– I just followed what Derek wished for. He said not to say anything.. He didn’t want to scare you at the whole thing because we don’t know how to cure it.”

“Scott I’m an adult. Okay? I’m not a freaking helpless human highschooler anymore. I need to know these sort of things..” He fiddled with his fingers that trembled ever slightly, “okay and I just need the truth. I need to know you guys aren’t hiding anything else.. So, there’s nothing else to it?” 

Scott’s lips quivered, and if Stiles were a werewolf, he’d hear his tell-tale heart. “Stiles..” 

“Mr. Stilinski,” a strong voice interrupted their heartfelt exchange. Stiles shot up onto his legs as soon as he noticed the white lab coat. A young woman had addressed him, “I understand you are Derek Hale’s husband,” she watched him nod, only to blast multiple questions at her. “He is in a stable condition, and you can see him now,” she stopped for a second.

Stiles felt the _but_ coming on. 

“Derek is a mystery case right now. We have no reason to blame for the seizure, and he’s having arrhythmias, despite having perfect health. In fact, the only records we could pull up are yearly physicals, which are model examples. No checkups or sick visits documented.” The lady described, because to her, Derek is a human. But Scott and Stiles knew why he was in perfect health– werewolves don’t get sick, and when they get injured, they healed. Even when Derek got badly hurt, he could never resort to medical services. None of them could. Too many plot holes and questions they wouldn’t be able to provide details for. “He truly has no reason to be seizing, and we rarely succeed in getting him to stop. His body was rejecting everything we pumped in, he threw up almost every time. The EMTs said it was as if he had had a heart attack prior to the seizure, but when we ran tests and imaging, his arteries were in perfect condition and there was no cardiac failure.” Confusion had struck her entire team as they couldn’t grasp any sort of reason for anything that was happening to Derek, she recalled. “The only thing we could find on his body were a few punctures on his palm, as if some sort of _think_ had pressed its claws into them.“

Stiles looked at Scott, remembering how Derek broke skin as he pressed his claws into his palm last night when he uncontrollably tried to turn back. 

“As of now, he’s stable You can go in, but only one at a time please.” She glanced at Scott.

Stiles had explained to her that he had gotten home to find Derek convulsing on the floor, and wished he could be more helpful. They thanked her for the work as she sent them into the room. 

“You think it was my panic attack that’s making his heart go crazy?” 

Scott frowned, “I don’t know what to think.” 

_Derek looked so peaceful laying on the hospital bed._

His chest was bare, with wires attached that lead to a cardiac monitor. IVs had put his arms in distress, as the bruising from them became incredibly visible. His skin was paler than it used to be, but he looked better in comparison to the impish-grey hue he had earlier acquired during his convulsions. His dark, beautiful hair crowned his forehead, and his 5 o’clock shade had seeed more prominent than ever. The oxygen tubes flowing through the man’s nostrils taunted Stiles like nothing other. And oh god, oh how so badly he wanted to kiss his husband, he oh so badly wanted to apologize for all the crazy shit that’s been going on lately. It hurt him so fucking bad. Stiles’ felt his eyes sting and water, as they followed the numerous tubes that had been connected to the werewolf and then back to the machines. 

This isn’t fair.

Werewolves aren’t supposed to get sick.

Or hurt.

Derek isn’t supposed to get hurt.

_This isn’t fair._

“Stiles….” Scott protested when he watched Stiles twitch his hand towards Derek. 

Scott winced, very physically, as his best friend laid his long fingers on his sweetheart’s hand, trying to instigate without touching the IV aerial lines that bruised his wrists. 

“Stiles–” Scott got nervous as he realized that _maybe he should’ve said the truth_. 

The young man softly pulled back as he noticed Derek starting to stir, his green-blue eyes coming to sight in an extremely tired manner. 

“Der’?” Stiles whispered, pulling his knuckles inward to kiss them, “Derek I’m right here love. I’m right here.” Derek glazed over his husband’s face, knowing who it was despite seeing double. The scent lingered in the air, it was pungent, and sour– and a little irony, exactly what anxiety smells like. It made Derek want to throw up– not at the smell, but rather at the fact that Stiles has to see him like this. 

A small smile cracked Stiles’ face, only for it to _completely disappear_ when suddenly, Derek’s eyelids dropped and monitors started to go off rapidly. 

It happened all too fast. Doctors and nurses brushed by him, and Stiles definitely heard Scott try to talk to him. Stiles definitely heard the loud beeping, and he definitely felt the doctor’s hands on his shoulders as they tried to talk him into leaving in the room. 

_”He’s crashing!”_

_”Sir, you need to leave right now so we can help your husband.”_

 

_”Stiles.”_

Stiles. 

Stiles. 

He looked down at his hands, and suddenly, it was as if he was seeing red, as if a crimson shaded liquid threatened his innocence. 

Stiles. 

_“It was me. It was me.”_ Stiles repeated in trance as he backed up into the hallways. His breaths got heavy as they impacted his speech, “it was– it was me.”

Scott couldn’t help but glare with a guilty and sorrowful look, “Stiles..” His eyebrows scrunched, making that contorted face that Stiles _knew_ exactly what it meant. 

The young man froze, his lips quivered and he glared as if Scott was a murderer.

“Oh my god.” Stiles cussed, _”you knew.”_ He breathed in, “you knew Scott!” He breathed out. 

“I–”

 _”You fucking knew! I asked for the truth– a-and you lied!”_

In an instant, Stiles was in Scott’s face, slamming him against the wall. The werewolf watched, allowing his best friend to give him every blow– because frankly he deserved it. Personnel instigated the scene as a nurse plied Stiles, who was hysterically sobbing, off Scott. Stiles jumped back, releasing himself from the nurse as he put himself together and ran a hand through his hair. He sniffled, his lips twitching in the want to verbally attack Scott again, but decided he would walk away while he still had pride. 

“Stiles let me explain–” 

“Go to _fucking_ hell.” 

He caved. 

Derek was crashing. 

Scott was burning. 

And Stiles? 

Stiles is all of the above and more.

Scott watched his very best friend walk down the corridor and rushed out the hospital doors.


	8. Death Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no see-- decided I should start posting again after coming back to an overwhelming amount of love from everyone! Times aren't the greatest right now, but I'm getting through it :-) hope you enjoy a semi decent chapter. sorry for the mistakes- no time for a beta.

_Just breathe._

_Okay good._

_Just be breathe._

_Just like that Stiles._

_Breathe._

_Stop crying._

_Okay, relax, relax._

_God why won’t the fucking car fucking start?_

_Okay stop stop its moving relax._

_Stiles stop running the ignition._

_Stilesyou’rerunningtheignition._

_Stiles, relax._

_Get it together._

_Get it together!_

_Rantheredyourantheredlight!_

_God fuck it all to fucking hell!_

A very flustered, very angry Stiles Stilinski pulled over on the side of the street as he cursed, his phone buzzing for what felt like a century. 

The caller left a message, which he played out loud after refusing to answer the phone when he saw the Caller ID.

“Stiles— please, please stop okay? I need you to meet me at this address with Deaton. We need to find a cure to this. You shouldn’t be driving, it’s going to affect you just as badly and dude I’m so—“

Stiles deleted the message. 

_”Shit!”_ Stiles angrily shouted in a hushed tone. The harsh material of the Jeep’s steering wheel was met with the uncomfortable sandwich that was Stiles’ knuckles tucked in the hand brace. It had just occurred to him that he was Scott’s only ride.

After a few shed tears and a wholesome ten minutes, Stiles find himself pulling up to a hopeless looking Scott at the hospital. His eyes were big, and he looked liked a lost puppy. 

“I don’t want to talk. Just get in, and tell me how to get there.” 

Stiles felt as if his ears were bleeding, suddenly his hearing had become amplified to the point where the coils of the seat belt Scott had pulled on taunted him. 

“Stiles.”

He ignored Scott.

“Stiles.” 

He’s really, really trying to focus on the road right now and something’s blurring his vision, and he’s not thinking straight. 

“Stiles!––” Scott yelled out, “Stop! You’re crying. You gotta stop dude. I’m sorry, okay? It was a stupid mistake! I should’ve told you!’ He could only pray that his best friend had bothered to listen, considering Scott definitely felt Stiles rev the jeep’s engine. He watched his best friend clench his jaw, pursing his lips as if he were trying to not let out a painful scream worthy of a banshee. 

_”Stiles!_

He fucking swerved into a random parking lot, and forcefully put the car in park. 

Scott was breathing hard as a thousand different foul, acidic smells hitting him in the face.

And he watched. 

He watched his best fucking friend in the whole wide world just _absolutely break down_

Worst day ever. 

Scott watched Stiles tip his forehead against the steering wheel, “okay just relax bud..” Scott frowned as he tried to comfort him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Derek asked me not to. Because he didn’t want this to happen. He didn’t want you to feel guilty.” Scott let out one of his own sighs, “in retrospect, it probably would have been better had I told you.. But we can’t keep doing this. Stiles–” he laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to block out the whimpers and shuddering breaths the human lets out. “This isn’t your fault. And the feeling you have right now isn’t your fault.” 

Scott has never, in the twenty something years, seen his best friend in a state like this. This was worse than the days during the nogitsune. Because this? This isn’t a supernatural caused thing, this is Stiles’ genuine feelings over the course of the last weeks. “Switch with me.” 

Stiles perked up, his poor eyes swollen and puffy from the insomnia and anxiety. 

“Seats,” Scott reiterated, “switch sweats with me.”

Next, Stiles felt his body literally dragged out of the driver’s seat, embraced in a warm bear hug, and then forced into the passenger seat. 

“We’re going to Deaton’s, to see if he came up with a cure. And then, you go home and get some rest…” It was then Scott realized Stiles’ still hadn’t taken his meds yet. 

“––but Derek.”

Scott gave him a stern look, entwining his fingers around the steering wheel, “Stiles first. Then Derek.” He popped the stick of the car forward, “you might get sick as well.. And that does no one any good.” 

The drive was long, and quiet. Everytime Scott wanted to say something, it was as if his words were stuck on his tongue. He was afraid that Stiles was still terribly upset at him. And everytime that he threw glance to his right and saw Stiles slouched, head against the window, his heart palpitated roughly and listened into his heartbeat. 

Scott pulled into the driveway, watching Stiles’ hesitate before opening the car door. The werewolf followed him in as he received a look from his friend. 

“Aren’t you going to Deaton’s?” 

Scott nodded, closing the door behind him as he seemed to be making himself at home. “I will,” he smiled, _after_ I watch you actually take your medication and get some rest.” 

Stiles wanted to hate Scott so fucking much right now, but he can’t. 

“I really do want to punch you right now.”

Scott chuckled, pouring a cup of water for Stiles as he grabs his medications. 

—

The darkness of the night that day was a comforting one. It was the type that would surround in lurking loneliness, but then suddenly engulf you with a warm embrace. Stiles however, had begged to differ.

It was two in the morning. Scott was “sound asleep” in the guest room, and Stiles was supposed to be, in his room. But the bed felt a little too big that night, a little too empty. This feeling had lingered for the last few days of Derek’s _episodes_. Stiles was sick and tired of it. 

No amount of turning and twisting, covering and uncovering, and counting sheep could put the young man to sleep. And by the time he finally managed to get some shut eye, he Stiles woke himself up in a sweat, panting horrifically with images of a bleeding Derek. 

Thoughts of Derek, the need to kiss and nuzzle himself against the werewolf’s scruff had made Stiles sweat completely through his white shirt. His hand had hurt more than ever as the pain of that had brought serious panic. Stiles sat up in the bed, staring at the human-sized spot on the left of the bed. He pulled off his shirt, since Derek wasn’t here, and caught a glimpse of his scars once again. 

An impulsive decision put Stiles in the shower, and then dressed in khakis and a long sleeved shirt. He creeped out his room, grabbing a backpack and filling it with file, a book and his medication. Stiles stepped quietly down the hall, seeing that Scott’s door was closed and presumed to be asleep. Somehow, without waking the werewolf up, Stiles found himself in his Jeep and driving to the hospital. 

He applauded himself for not waking up his best friend who had genuine spidey-senses. 

A quiet Red Hot Chili Peppers single played on the radio, as Stiles found himself unable to deal with serious loud noises ever since the accident. He remembered once being told that music therapy would help him relax as he trained his muscles again, but dealt with painful migraines within two minutes every time. It’s ironic that he wants a kid. Those things are _loud noises_ with legs. 

The hospital seemed familiar now, and was often a frequent trip to the point where Stiles knew the name of the night toll-worker at the parking lot entrance. 

Walking into the hospital, Stiles signed in and asked for a Derek Hale. 

“He’s currently in the ICU..” A lady honed, staring at the computer. 

“Y-yeah I- I know- I’m his husband I’m sure I can—“ Stiles stuttered awkwardly, noticing his hand slightly trembling on top of the desk counter. 

“It seems as if there’s already a visitor checked into his room.” 

Stiles furrowed his brows and scratched his temples, “a visitor?” 

They lived in Southern California with the closest remote family in Beacon Hills. 

“Uhm, co-could you please check again maybe?”

The lady seemed to be annoyed, as it was honestly not the best time of day, “sir— the rules of visiting the ICU at night hours are clear, unless you have other authorization—“

 _”I’m his husband, what other authorization do I need!”_ Stiles expressed a little too loudly, to the point where he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Of course it’s him. 

The attractive man gave a sweet smile to the receptionist, putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulder, “Thank you, Kathryn, I can assist Mr. Stilinski from here.”’

Evan walked as he lead the young man, who was seriously nervous at even the touch of the doctor, “You’ll have to excuse her— it’s been a long night.” Checking a list, Doctor Tyler located Derek’s room. “I thought I saw someone familiar pass by.” 

Stiles irked his head, “someone familiar?” 

“Yes— Scott right? He’s been here for maybe the last hour.” 

And it all made sense now. 

“Would you happen to have any updates on Derek?” Stiles asked. 

Evan shook his head, “nothing different besides the convulsions. It seems as if he’s been stable the entire night so far. Everything that occurs happens without reason- take the seizure for example. We ran all the tests and such and nothing came up. They’ve put him into a medically induced coma as to not compromise an underlying factors we are still looking for. Other than that– It’s a medical mystery… but we’ll keep you in the loop.” Stiles thanked the doctor as he lead him right up to Derek’s room. “Oh and Stiles? Take it easy my friend.” Stiles gave him a small smile before he knocked on the door and let himself in. 

“Took you long enough.” Scott claimed. 

“What the hell Scott? Did you follow me?” 

Stiles noticed his best friend’s hand on Derek’s, in an attempt to drain any pain. The tubes attached to Derek frightened him immensely, especially considering that there would be no human-aiding cure that would help him anyways. 

That feeling of infidelity and betrayal courses through the man’s veins once again, but he can’t be mad at Scott. 

“I woke up after hearing you actually freaking out. I didn’t want to startle you so I figured out your next move, and decided to beat you here.” Scott gave up his chair as he explained, “I couldn’t let you do this alone, and I figured that you’d want to be with him anyways..” 

Stiles bit his lips as he reckoned Scott cared about him too much. 

“I’ll uh.. leave and give you some privacy but before I do..” Scott hesitated, “I spoke to Deaton and his colleague.” 

Stiles’ eyes lit up, his golden honey brown irises sparked. 

“They think they found a way to fix this.” Scott explained, watching Stiles almost jump out of his seat. 

“How? Wait- what? I mean-... I’ll do it. Whatever is it sign me the hell up.” 

Scott three a glance at Derek as he shuffled his feet. 

“What? _There’s definitely a but coming._ ”

There most certainly was. 

Scott looked down before continuing, “he said that.. in order for to save someone of supernatural abilities suffering from human causes, then there needs to be a human offering.” 

Stiles almost laughed, a cynical grimace curling his lips, “like what? They’re gonna chop me up and throw me into a volcano as they chant a cult prayer?” 

An awkward silence arose. 

“Oh god— they’re not gonna chop me up and throw me into a volcano as they chant a cult prayer are they?” 

Scott shook his head, “no— no of course not… just— just whatever, forget it Stiles.” 

“What? No— Scott if there’s something I can do to save Derek, I’ll do it! Regardless of whether I get hurt or not!” 

“Stiles.. All of this is happening because of your emotional tether to Derek. It’s too much for a human being emotionally attached to a supernatural being. The only way to fix it is to tear the tether.”

“So Derek is becoming too human?”

Scott nodded. “And years of hurt and injuries, including whenever you’re physically or emotionally hurt is starting to add up on his body externally.” 

Tears started to form in his eyes, “you would do anything to bring Alison back.” Something about that made Stiles realize he may have overstepped his boundaries, but Scott understood where he came from. “I need Derek back. I need my Derek back.” 

A hand was rubbed up down over Scott’s face, a look of guilt was written all over it. “It’s the sacrifice.” 

Suddenly, all emotion was wiped off Stiles’ face. His complexion was drained of all color. 

“Stiles we almost died last time. Hell— you were fucking possessed after it. A-and aren’t you gonna raise a kid?” 

Stiles stared blankly for a while, comprehending the whole scenario as he took a seat. 

So Scott just stood there for five minutes, waiting for a reply from his buddy. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Scott felt his stomach turn inside out. Of course, he knew Stiles would jump at the chance. He knew how selfless and courageous the human being was, and it was one of his best qualities, but also his downfalls. 

“I just want you to understand dude—“

“I’ve almost died so many times in my life that I don’t think I remember how to live without the fear of it.” Stiles whispered. “So I’ll do it. I’ve made my decision and that’s the end of that.” 

Scott mouthed an, “ok.” He pulled out his phone, “let me just call Deaton,” he said as he took it outside. 

Stiles found himself suddenly shrinking in the chair. 

He had officially signed a death contract. 

The young man sat there for a few minutes, acknowledging the silence. He knew what he was getting himself into when he married Derek Hale, and it was a price he was more than happy to pay in all honesty. 

Stiles’ trance was broken when he felt a wetness on his cheek once again. 

“Derek, baby..” He started. “You probably can’t hear me right now.. Which is good because that means I can cry like a man in peace but..” Stiles sighed, taking in a deep breath after it. “All I want do is hold your hand. I just wanna give the biggest fucking hug and just kiss you and–” He bit his lip again, trying to hold in a whimper. “I’m sorry. Please, just let me know you’re okay.”

Stiles couldn’t resist from putting his hand on top of Derek’s so he resorted to self-inflicted pain; he dug his fingernails as far as they could go until he slightly pierced his own skin. Stiles winced before noticing blood dripping down Derek’s nose, at the same time that it dripped down Stiles’ own hand. 

“Shit. Shit–” he grabbed tissues from a tissue box and wiped away at his husband’s nose, careful not to touch his flesh with Derek’s. Stiles started to hysterically cry as the blood pooled then crusted above the werewolf’s lips. “God– fuck!” He yelled, throwing the tissue box across the room. He could physically feel his body temperature rising as his face almost burned. Stiles pulled at his hair in frustration, trying to keep his breathe steady. The paced beeps of the various machines drove him to the brink, and he couldn’t take staring at Derek anymore. Stiles felt his legs turn into jello, and his arms into noodles as he suddenly dropped. 

It wasn’t a build up of dizziness, but more of a tv static like trance.

Stiles hadn’t passed out, thank god– but rather physically felt his blood curdling in his veins as he slid against the wall of the room, holding his head.   
it was only a few minutes before Scott came running in. 

“Stiles– Stiles dude, I’m right here. I’m right here.” 

Scott knew he shouldn’t have left the room; he knew it’s getting bad. Had he not had to _sneak in_ to the ICU corridor, he would’ve been there faster. He could smell the fresh blood as he wrapped Stiles’ hands with his own, “did you do this to yourself?” He frowned. 

Stiles shuddered. “I didn’t want to touch him. Then his nose started bleeding because of it a-and I didn’t know what to do and-”

Scott knows this isn’t Stiles. He knows his best friend is stronger, more organized, more confident than this. It just goes to show exactly what the hell a mental illness can do to a person. The human’s hands were a mess at this point, a brace on one and now a bandage that Scott found in a drawer wrapped around his other. And he realized it’s not his fault either, but rather it’s affecting Stiles to– not just Derek. 

“I just got off with Deaton..” Scott spoke softly, listening to Stiles’ rapid heart. “He said the sooner we do it. The night before the full moon, is better because of the climax of power the moon is harvesting.” 

Stiles drew a breath, “when’s the next full moon?” 

“Tomorrow night.” 

Stiles froze.

“I know,” Scott reiterated, “listen– we can wait. Derek can wait Stiles.”

“An entire month? I don’t think he– I don’t think _I_ can survive another month. I mean– look at what I’m doing to myself! I can’t even be trusted to be left alone in the room.” Stiles angrily scolded himself, but was also slightly put off by the fact that he basically dies tonight. He shuffled himself up to his feet and started packing his backpack he brought. 

“W-what are you doing?” 

“Just picking up my things.” 

“Stiles.”

He looked to his best friend, their eyes meeting pitifully, “I have to do this Scott. I love him.”

Scott nodded his head as he felt his eyes water a bit, before proceeding to go start the car. 

As it was just Stiles and Derek in the room, Stiles zipped up his bag. “You hear that Derek?” He said, remorse in his voice, “I love you.”


	9. Emotional Tether

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! if you're still here you're the OG. Quick chapter. ;)

Stiles Stilinski shook in front of his mirror as he pulled on an all black outfit, for it was the least nice thing he had in his closest and didn’t feel like ruining a sixty dollar shirt. He wanted to joke about his old junior high days, but the fear of death had put his tomfoolery to an end. 

He stood there, his eyes sunken in, and his cheekbones more prominent than they should have been. A box labeled _Derek_ sat across the floor from him, full and taped shut. Inside it? Pictures. Money. All the paperwork for the adoption. All of Stiles’ important documentations like his passport, ecetera, ecetera. He eyed it, a tear coming to his eyes as he took a deep breath. He clutched his shirt when he started to feel a little heavy, but he felt a little metal band rubbing against one of his wrapped fingers. That ring. 

That damned ring. 

Another deep breath. 

_For Derek. For Derek._ He whispered. 

Stiles got into the passenger seat of the car as Scott refused to let him drive. It would be a slightly long one too. 

The drive was one of painful memories and regret. Regret for all the things Stiles may never get to do, but also regret for having to put everyone through something he can’t imagine. 

Stiles put an envelope in the glove compartment of the car as Scott watched. 

“What is that?”

Stiles bit his lip, “I need you to give it to my dad if–”

“No Stiles–” Scott interrupted. “No ifs.” 

Stiles pursed his lips, carefully articulating his next response. “Scotty–”

“I’m not letting you–” his best friend’s voice cracked. 

“Scott–” Stiles said in a painful tone, his eyes glassy as he stared at the traffic lights ahead of him. All he could see was an image of bokeh, little colored circles engulfing his vision. “Scott– you need to- to give it to him. It’s got–” another break in his speech took over, “it’s got everything he needs to know.” 

“You already left something for Derek didn’t you?” 

Stiles nodded.   
“What are we gonna say?”

Scott’s eyes got watery as well, unable to even consider what was occuring. He swore that if he were not driving, then he’d be balling his eyes out. 

“We’ll figure it out just– just don’t think about it, Stiles.” Scott said in an incredibly reassuring voice. 

There’s no words to describe this feeling that was lodged in Stiles’ stomach. He wanted to curl up and sob for a good seven years. That’s it, the world was ending. It was as if Stiles was preparing himself for suicide. That’s what that was. Years of finesse and cheating death have finally caught up to him, and this time– it’ll be his own fault. 

“Stop thinking about it.” Scott looked over after an uncomfortable fifteen minutes of silence. He knew something dubious was brewing in Stiles’ brain because he’s quiet. But his heart beat, was as loud as ever, and it was as if Scott could physically hear his blood pressure rising. 

“I’m never gonna hug my little boy ever again.” He whispered in a sad tone. He let out an exasperation of fear and sorrow, one that shook Scott to his core. “What am I doing Scott?” He rubbed his hands down his face as if he were attempting to wipe away a decade’s worth of pain. “W-why couldn’t I just fall in love with a normal human, who wants a normal family, who has normal life things happen to him. A white fucking picket fence. Why wasn’t I happy with that? _And don’t you dare tell me I don’t have to do this because you know I can’t live with myself if I don’t._ ” Stiles started to ramble, tears down his face. 

“I..” Scott tried to stop himself from crying anymore as well, “I just think.. Bad things happen to good people. But I told you, I’ve never seen any two people be so obsessed with each other in my entire life.” Scott inhaled as he made a slightly too sharp turn, one that would make Stiles’ already nervous stomach turn inside out. “Last home stretch, alright buddy?” 

That fucking car ride, and that damn ring.   
Stiles couldn’t stop fidgeting with it. 

\--------------

“You ready?” A quiet Scott asked Stiles, who stood, staring at the ice bath in front of him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Deaton was there too, sighing as he added the finishing touches and explained the process: The sacrifice would occur, but because Derek– who is his emotional tether– isn’t here, the tether would most likely break. It was the only way to bring Derek out of his condition, Deaton explained. “Derek is severly suffering from a physical form of separation anxiety that werewolves get when they develop intense bonds, or in your case emotional tethers, with pack mates. And because you're human, he’s loses that sense of his primal side. You make him human Stiles. “ 

It made him angry. It made him so fucking angry and it wasn’t fair that because he _loved_ and was absolutely fucing obessed with the man that it was physically hurting him. 

“You’re going to be under for 24 hours.” 

Stiles swallowed thickly, as if a tinge of regret hit the back of his throat. 

Deaton seemed to be mixing something again as he pulled out a spoon of his concoction. He gave it to Stiles, who sniffed it, a hint of familiarity plaguing his nostril hairs. 

“Is the same thing we used a few nights ago?”

The older man nodded. “Swallow it down in one gulp, it’ll burn less.” He watched as Stiles’ eyes squinted and his face contorted, the sour yet vulgar taste was forced into his stomach. He swore it would burn a hole in his stomach lining. 

“Did you bring something?” Scott asked. 

His friend showed him the precious ring that laid on the creases of his palm. Memories of the last sacrifice brought forth a retort, “Figured since my Dad took his badge back.. And this is all for Derek. Just made sense.”

Scott smiled, then sighed when Deaton asked, ‘Scott will do you the honors?”

Stiles chuckled, commenting something about being accomplices in his murder underneath his breath. Nevertheless, he closed his fist, took a deep breath and basically handed his entire life to Scott McCall, who’s hands rest on Stiles’ shoulders. Looking down at the water, Stiles’ breathing got heavier and faster with every inhale and exhale. 

1.

2.

3.

1.

2.

3.

1..

2..

His foot felt the frigid feeling of suicide first. 

It was so cold to the point where it almost burned. 

Stiles’ breathing was erratic, getting all the more shakey with every inch of his body that was submerged. 

It was as if he were having a panic attack, he couldn’t breathe with all the pressure on his chest as he layed in the larged basin. 

“Deep breaths. Take deep breaths.” He heard Scott say behind him. Callused, strong hands rubbed at the nape of his neck, before rubbing his shoulders once again. “Relax, you’re gonna be okay. I promise.” Deaton then reiterated the fact that Stiles will indeed suffocate if he doesn’t control his breathing. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

_Scott, if anything happens, take me to the nearest pond. Make it look like a freak accident._

“Okay.. Okay– 24 hours and I’m out. Okay.” Stiles whispered to himself with almost gasps for air. 

_Relax._

_Relax._

_Relax._

“Okay,” Scott’s voice quivered, “you ready bud?” He noticed Stiles nodded his head. 

**“1.”**

 

_Derek. Derek. Derek. Derek. DerekDerekDerek.._

**“2.”**

_Derek. Derek. DerekDEREKDEREKDEREK._

**“3.”**

Stiles closed his eyes and could only imagine his line of vision as he was forcefully pushed and held down in the water. All sound waves warbled into gurgles of water that flushed painfully into his ears.

He held his breath as long as he could, until he felt like his heart had just gotten a cortisone shot. Burning tendrils exploded every nerve ending in his body as he started to tremble underneath his best friend’s grasp. Stiles’ struggle got worse and worse.

_Derek. Derek. DerekDEREKDEREKDEREK._

His eyes opened, the cold sensation warbling his sight before it started to fade and fade. 

He could feel his body pushing up against the hands in an act to resist, but his mind constantly told him to relax. 

The struggle is always the worst part.

The figures of Scott overhead Stiles Stilinski flickered like static before disappearing into a dark cascade. And soon, the human became still in the water.


	10. Praying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slight medical terms/scenes so just be weary, romantic but not exactly sexual content at the end (implied, not written), and religious feats. Just to cover my bases yikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Thank you so much for the endless support! Last chapter of the fic :) Next on: the final fic of the series that will be up soon. Hope you all enjoyed! So sorry for endless errors in grammar, spelling, and potholes. Its hard to keep up sometimes. Cheers xx,

It was hours into the night as Scott fell asleep in the chair right in front of the ice bath in Deaton’s office, until a vicious buzzing noise forced himself up. His hands were cramping from their stature like presence, but he couldn’t remove himself from the shoulders of his best friend. 

On the alumunium table sat Stiles phone, that rang about three times until Deaton jumped to grab it. He fumbled until he managed to take a good look at the phone number, seeing the caller ID of _SANTA MONICA_. Holding up the phone to his ear, Deaton watched Scott’s lips tremble as he hesitantly answered it. 

“Hello?” He said, his voice groggy as he suddenly recalled the entire night’s events. 

“Hi is this Mr. Stilinski?” 

“Uh– yes.” 

“Hi, this is Derek’s doctor at Los Angeles Medical, just calling to update you that he’s awake, and fully stable.” 

Scott almost dropped the phone as he stammered to reply back, “T-that’s awesome um..” his lips curled, with a sense of pride swelling up in him severely, “I’ll be there as soon as I can… yes.. Thank you.”

The young man put the phone down as he looked to Deaton and give him _a look_. “It worked.” Scott smiled, beaming as he reiterated, “it worked!” He was happy for at least two seconds before coming to a realization. “W-wait, if it worked, why isn’t Stiles up?” 

Deaton explained sternly with a grim look,”Derek’s not his tether anymore.. But it’s been,” he took a look at his watch, “eleven and a half hours.” He was supposed to have twelve and a half hours left. “It’s dangerous to pull him out when he’s only half way….” 

‘But?”

Deaton’s facial expression dawned concern, “we’re just gonna have to resuscitate him if need be, which will put strain on his healthy heart so we’re just gonna have to accept the consequences after.” 

It only took one look exchanged from the two men to pull Stiles Stilinski’s cold, _cold_ body. 

Scott’s heart was pounding against his cage, thinking of all the possibilities of outcomes, that he might be okay, that he might be dead, that he might be brain damaged. Nothing is worth this amount of pain. 

“Stiles–Stiles, c’mon dude,” Scott spoke out as they laid his body on the table that was now covered in towels. “Stiles– c’mon, c’mon.” The werewolf held his friend’s hand, feeling a very slight and barely-there-pulse, but it was something. His skin was as pale as ever, and his under eyes dark and blue toned. The image reminded him of Stiles’ last horrifying bout of the sacrifices, and it scared him to hell and back. 

Tears welled in his eyes, as pure, absolute, crushing fear for Stiles’ life for the first time ever since his accident. “W-what am I supposed to do?” His voice shook as he held his ear against his best friend’s chest. “He’s gonna die–”

Scott trembled, feeling his eyes change rapidly. 

Deaton was silent as he ambushed his office gathering supplies before he reassured his pupil, “Scott– I need you to relax. You need to do compressions. Like would you as if you’re doing CPR on a dog– compressions on a human. Even them out to the song.” He then ushered instructions. Scott continued trying to muster any pain from Stiles in between pulses, who was _hypothermic_ , as he watched the black tendrils drive up to his biceps. It hurt like a bitch, but he had to do this. For Stiles. Scott did the best he could do to warm up his best friend, laying heating pads and sheets on his limbs. Then, he reassessed his pulse. 

Scott watched his boss whip out multiple materials, the ones like he’d seen Melissa work with at the hospital when she had a patient come in from the Emergency Room. 

“W-what are we doing?”

“I think right now’s an appropriate time to teach you how to save a life.” 

Scott stared at him with wide eyes, and before he knew it, they had managed to start an IV line via Stiles’ uninjured wrist, and got his body temperature up. All in Alan Deaton’s little veterinarian office. The werewolf found himself able to breathe when slight color flushed the young man’s cheeks once again, a major improvement to thirty minutes prior. 

Once they had gotten a handle on things, all they could do was wait. 

“Scott, I think it’s best if you go check on Derek. He’s going to be up, confused, and wondering about Stiles.” 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Scott hated the hospital too. He hated how he could physically smell the _sick_. Hated how death lurked around the corner. He wanted to help people, he truly did, but he didn’t know how. And that was something that he always feared would be the cause of the disbanding of his pack. It was all a reminder when he walked into the room, seeing Derek just _laying_ there. 

But with one good look at him, Derek looked as lively as ever. Running into his doctors, Scott was reassured that Derek would be discharged after tonight, because they were just confused as to how he is suddenly in better health than ever. The next night would just be for observation. 

The young man would’ve hated to wake up Derek from what seemed to be a post-coma-siesta, so it wasn’t till after almost an hour until Derek realized who was there. 

“Scott?” He asked, opening his eyes although he wished it was someone else. Millions of thoughts raced in his head, wondering why Scott and not _someone else_ was here. 

The younger werewolf smiled, closing the door behind him. “Intercepted the call from the hospital so I came. You good?” 

Derek weakly smiled. “I’m good.” He was tired, weak, and sore all over the place. A sense of gratefulness washed over him when he lifted the bandages and tape off his bare chest to reveal that his scars and cuts had suddenly healed themselves. Derek was better than ever. After what was possibly the third worst thing to happen to him in his life (the fire being the first, and the death of his first love being a close runner up), he can officially say he cheated death. At least seven times. And now to be alive? This wasn’t fair to everyone else, but he’ll come to accept it. But there’s only one person Derek cares more about them being alive right now, “where’s Stiles? Is he okay?” 

Scott took a seat as he sighed, “he’s gonna be okay.”

There was a long awkward silence. And for a while, they both knew they were listening to each other’s hearts, counting the beats and hearing the blood rush in their vessels as if they had put up a conch shell to their ear. 

The silence then broke, Derek along with it as cracks threatened the timbre of his voice, “Was it what I think it is?” 

“What did you think it was?” 

_“Did you break our tether?”_

Scott could only answer with a quiet nod, because he was afraid of breaking down right then and there. “You know Stiles prayed, right? He _prayed_ for you, Derek. He cried and _prayed to God_ that you would be alive, and that if having to stop loving you would bring you back, then that’d be okay.” Scott’s voice was shaking again as his eyes met Derek’s, thinking about Stiles’ relationship with the Man up there. Both knew that the sheriff was a very respecting man of the church, and Derek, himself, is no one to call out an agnostic, but he never dared question Stiles. Scott closed his eyes, remembering a certain conversation he had with his best friend at the end of senior year; it was a fire they had deep into the night, one of those late confessionals you shared with your closest friends as the sun started to rise. 

–––––––––––  
 _“Do you believe in God?” Scott questioned the pack, downing his drink in front of the fire. There sat Stiles, Isaac, Jackson, Lydia, Malia, and even Mason, and Liam. I mean, everyone had an opinion on it._

_“McCall, don’t tell me you suddenly are a man of God?” Jackson almost spit out his drink._

_“God or not, we went to hell and back, so whatever there is after this, can bite me.” Lydia spited, shouting out the last three years that they had miraculously survived, but not everyone._

_There were seats missing that night._

_Five to be exact._

_Body and Erica, who weren’t pack, but also were._

_Alison and Ethan, who had both paid the ultimate price, one that Stiles will forever feel guilt for._

_And Kira, who rightfully left to finish a self-inflicted battle of her own._

_That exact thought had posed Stiles’ answer. “I mean, I don’t know– like maybe there is a divine power controlling everyone’s exact move. Maybe we’re all part of a game or whatever but.. no ‘God’ of mine would let innocent people suffer and die like that. And I’m not praying to a God that allows **monsters** to ruin everyone. I don’t know, but that’s my two cents.”_

_“Amen to that.”_

__  
____________

Scott took a deep breath, wiping away his tears, as he made his point, “Stiles doesn’t even believe in Him. But he still prayed for you.”

“You don’t think I thought of him every second?” Derek stopped for a second, realizing that came out with a little bit of anger. “I.. it’s like I can’t _feel_ him anymore.”

He then took the liberty of explaining the fact that they aren’t emotionally tethered anymore, and that the whole _mating_ thing has basically been pressed for the rest button. 

“Did you– the sacrifice, did yo–”

Scott nodded. 

Derek clenched his jaw, despite every single muscle in his body was sore. “You’re sure he’s okay?” 

“Yeah,” Scott’s attention shifted as he felt an incoming presence. “He’s okay.” 

Standing by the doorway was Stiles Stilinski. 

Scott immediately jumped and gave his best friend the tightest hug possible, _”thank you– oh thank you, thank you, thank you.. dude.”_ As much as he never wanted to pull away from Stiles again, he left the couple alone and went on his way to kiss Alan Deaton for keeping him alive. 

Derek saw Stiles wipe his face on the inside of his elbow, but when he pulled it away, there were new tears. 

“Stiles–” Derek’s voice broke. 

Stiles choked back, “don’t say anything. Please, okay? Because I think if I start, I’ll just never stop crying.. So, just– just move your ass over so I can lay with you.” 

Derek pinched at his own eyes, moving over to create space as Stiles layed down on the bed right next to him. The werewolf analyzed his husband’s body, smelling the scent of blood as he noticed a bandage over Stiles’ wrist. His hair smelled fresh, and was probably wet, and he’s a little bit cold which just made Derek want to snuggle with him even more. 

Derek wasn’t much of a talker, which was good because Stiles talked too much, so it balanced out. And for once, Stiles appreciated that, until he got curious and just needed to let it all out. 

“You know I fucking love you?” His long, cold fingers wrapped around Derek’s. “Like, I don’t need to every reiterate that again?” 

Derek chuckled, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. 

“Did Scott tell you?” Stiles inquired about whether he knew about the story or not. 

He nodded, “I really want to hate you for putting yourself in danger,” his lips curled into a slight smirk, “and you’re still cold.” Derek took it upon him to wrap his arms around Stiles, pulling him closer. 

“Nothing’s gonna change… will it?” 

Derek thought about it for a second, as he’s never broken his own tether before. “Stiles, I promise this is as real as it gets, and I believe that what we have is strong enough, regardless of a tether or not.” 

Stiles’ smile soon turned into a chuckle, and then crying, and _absolutely sobbing_.

“Hey, hey, hey– Stiles it’s okay, it’s okay baby, it’s okay,” Derek could smell the scent of relief, sheer happiness, and anxiety melt into one, but they were still individually distinguishable. This only made him more worried than happy. Stiles buried himself into Derek’s shoulder as he cried, every sob racking his body as Derek’s hand circled on his back. He softly shushed him, “it’s okay, we’re gonna go home– you know maybe call your dad, see what’s up– gonna spend some time with August– get that job you wanted.. It’s gonna work out. I promise, it’ll be okay.” 

Probably best thing about Stiles Stilinski in Derek Hale’s eyes was the fact that even after absolute _hell_ , he could still crack a joke or two. 

“I think I’ve cried out ninety percent of my water weight.” Stiles rubbed at his extremely red eyes once again as he let out a relieved huff. Derek played with his hair, running his hands through it as Stiles continued, “God, if someone comes in they’re gonna be so weirded out.” 

“Let them be.” 

The novel idea that Derek could check himself out of the hospital after a quick checkup was credited to Stiles, and was one that only made him more excited to get home. Of course, the staff had a hundred questions, but none were answered, so let’s just say that the Hale-Stilinskis were a sought out couple when it comes to the ER. 

“You know I’m gonna jump you as soon as we get in the car, right?” Stiles reminded wittingly as they walked out of the hospital. 

“I’ve been out of commission for a week, I need a shower, a really _hot, steamy, shower_ before anything of the sort.” Derek chuckled. 

Stiles drove back to Deaton’s office so they could both thank him and Scott for keeping them alive before bringing Scott back home, who then proceeded to drop the ball that he booked the next flight back home. Stiles whined for a while, but realized he left Malia at the drop of a pin, and he owed it to her to get Scott back as soon as possible. So within an hour, Scott was packed, and sent on his way back to D.C. It was a sad, yet happy farewell bid adieu. Something that Stiles could only treasure for the remainder of his time before seeing him again. 

And the first thing Derek and Stiles did when they pulled into their driveway lot was race to the house door. 

They couldn’t wait to even lock the door behind as Stiles soon found Derek’s hands grappling at his waist, and kisses were thrown all over his neck. 

_”God, I love you,”_ Derek whispered as he had Stiles with his back against the wall, and his cheeks cupped in his hands. He helped Stiles pull off his shirt, and then returned the favor as they continued. “I love you so fucking much, Stiles.” 

Moving and making out simultaneously, Stiles backed up into the door of their room, “forget the shower– I’m already kissing you.” And so they got in, locking the door behind them. 

And the rest is history. 

The rest of the night was something that could’ve topped their honeymoon, and not from a _physical_ aspect, but rather because Derek has never, _ever_ , thought he could fall in love all over again with the same person. There was nothing that would have ruined it that night, except… Maybe one thing. 

Derek’s phone rang as he picked it up. Stiles was in the kitchen as Derek was getting into a change of clothes after a shower. The caller of ID of Scott brought a smile to his face, assuming maybe he just wanted to check in.

“Hey Scott, have you touched down yet?”

Scott seemed content on the end of the line, “Hey Derek, yep. About an hour ago.”

“So did yo–”

“Uh.. Listen Derek, I wanted to say tell you this but couldn’t with Stiles around..”

Derek listened in closely. 

“Just.. take care of him okay? Make sure… make sure he’s _all there_. And taking his meds, a-and not staying up too late because then he gets distracted, and not too much coffee because it gives him the shakes.”

“Scott-” 

“Derek, he hasn’t been so great this week, I swear it was like watching him lose control all over again– and with what we did tonight? Look, I know about the job and the kid and all but, please… just don’t let it get bad. Promise me, you’ll take care of him.”

Derek’s breath shook and shuddered, he was frozen in his stance, “I promise. Scott, I promise.”

 

(To be continued.)


End file.
